Oohh, An Invitation
Addressed to Yours Truly, Mrs. America (Token Ambassador to all things U.S.)
Requesting Civil Training, deliciously promising “in English”.
Arriving early at the appointed place, I begin to suspect something fishy
Cambodian, Sudanese, Turk… these do not look like people who speak English.
A man dressed all in black steps in front of the group, the executioner of our training.
“Jem’apelleAlasceJhabiteiciettravaillepoursjt…”
Stomach drops, heart begins to race. This isn’t in English…
Door shuts. Lock Clicks.
I’m beginning to understand the meaning of Mandatory Education.
“Vousetes?Queestquefaites?” each person is introduced and questioned. What?
My eyes scan the room for a quick exit, Panic
How will I survive!? Pretend "Fluency".
Tip#1: When in doubt copy the person next to you.
As the first hour begins I think, “I can handle this, no problem”
I brace myself as the executioner releases a torrent of words upon us all.
Tip #2: Quickly change your facial expression according to vocal tones of the speaker.
Second hour fades into the third, everyone still going strong
Boredom, my old friend is barking at the door
Virtuous Patience answers and begins her arduous task,
distracting Boredom with fantastic promises and subconscious paraphernalia.
NE-NU-NE-NU! ALERT! ALERT! The execution stares at me, waiting.
What was he just talking about!? Policy? Taxes?
Dozing to the finish is not an option for this Token Ambassador
Remain alert for such booby traps, the instant give-away to a false identity of “Fluency”.
Tip #3: Right before they ask you a question, the person will glance your direction.
Gasp! Water, I need water! At last the door opens! Freedom?!
Greasy fowl, burnt potato and something resembling Ketchup is tossed my way.
Sigh. The large windows tauntingly display the ice-capped freedom outside.
Hour four begins… Body is in official revolt.
Aching Joints... Nap Attack... The Big Guns: Stomach Cramps
Body takes over power in a victory ride of shooting pains, nausea and bloating.
Tip #4: Don’t let them see that you have lost your power to comprehend.
By the fifth hour, my mind has snapped.
I understand no words, only gibberish “gaggeberquletufont…”
Desperately grope to remain conscious, as body sounds the alarm for complete shut down…
Tip #5: Always nod occasionally, as if in profound realization.
(Particularly effect in appearance when physically exhausted)
Tick, Tock. Sixth hour arrives. I can not take anymore.
Pain is debilitating, I am now standing. Pacing. Boredom barking incessantly.
Patience threatening suicide. Minding, a trapped gerbil.
Tip #6: Always laugh when others laugh. When in doubt, smile but with reserve.
Seventh hour… never arrives. Time stands still. Is this Hell?
The executioners jaws open wide. No, no more questions!
“Dismissed”.
Cold air snaps, my brain returns to power. I stumble home, Survival!
A sheepish smile lurks, the final triumph is yet mine
My false identity a success,
He thought I understood what he was saying…
Creeping stealthily it fills the spaces left by man
Swallowing buildings, cars and trees complete
Crawling blindly it feels the way,
Reach out to touch it
Shy, floating just out of reach
Mother’s secret for this one night
The Heavens come down from the stars
A dalliance with the Life below
Embracing the crimes and passions of the human race
It passes no sweeping judgment
No hear
No see
No speak
As children of the world we sleep
Wisps of sweet nothing vanish with the dark of night
A faint figment of our dreams, a stolen moment of our lives.
On the 12th week in France, I missed a little thing...
Twelve No Smoking Sections
Eleven Plates of Mexican
Ten Rolls of Sushi
Nine Tyvek Envelopes
Eight Sheets Lined Paper
Seven Books in English
Six Christmas Trees
F-R-E-E--S-H-I-P-P-I-N-G
Four Days of Sun
Three Thrift Stores
Two Balls of Yarn
Sang to the melody of "12 Days of Christmas"