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With New Programmable Reading Lamps

It was a welcomed change, having spent the better part
of a month tracking the migratory patterns
of overdue library books, amassing anecdotes

for a journal article, or better yet, a junket.
We laughed at the proposition
knowing that our colleagues wouldn't be able to resist

the anticlimactic elegance of the main course
which had many going back for seconds ... and thirds
despite the initial apprehension

of those ubiquitous ladies-in-waiting
who, at that moment, were standing in the portico
with faces of clay, black magic markers in hand

admiring their gilt-framed likenesses.
A month ago the images of the patrons' saints
were featured in a juried exhibition

in the newly-renovated arts complex.
Several sold. Come to think of it, selling yourself
would indeed have been fodder

for a sci-fi thriller maybe even a best seller
setting the genre on its elbow. Meanwhile,
the village became an anthill; the villagers, ants.

We could hardly wait to return to our cabin to switch on
the new programmable reading lamps, and reread
the cruise literature of this soon-to-be forgotten voyage.