Teaching Composition

I started physical therapy again today.  I met a new intern and he did great.  I will let the wall on their lives rest there.  I will say that I did read, but is all only honor and glory, especially in spiritual ways.  I just got to Starbucks, Fridley and this Wiccan witch who is here a bit, is here.  She is such a bad name for a vagina.  Even KKK queens hate that name.  I will just say that it rhymes with hunt, Pete.  She plays so much with her long blonde hair that it is beginning to fall out.  The only seat there was when I got here was at a wobbly table right next to her.  She pulled her hair right over and scratched my arm with her nails.  When is it TOOO excessive?  Well maybe she won't play with her clothes today.  I think I do a good job in the face of this bullhooey.  I have felt so down since my wallet went missing.  My mother and my physical therapists made me feel better today.  I listened to Miranda Lambert radio on Pandora.com when I took the bus up here.  It was all pick me up songs that I knew.  I had a dream last night that I was in a composition class that seemed like a workplace.  We all had their own cubicles.  The instructor was this sweet woman with a British accent.  As she saw my piece on her desk she said, "Oh, I have heard of this woman before.  She worked at Nature's Classroom, an environmental camp, where she held a self designed composition and poetry class with all African American fifth graders who, before that day, could not read.  I can't wait to read."  She read it and got a big smile on her face.  I then woke up.  The Wiccan witch is now getting up to exit.  Good riddins.