Let me take you
down the Silk Road,
The flyer said..
A slide show ...
A space age experience.

Wipe out the memories
of bygone days?:
The unfortunate
paid the price of a free meal ,
Pending hangover,
Babies crying ,
Sleep desperate,
The upside down,
The chopped heads,
The missing subject,
The double slide,
The jammed viewer.
But Sylvia promises
so much more;
And so ,
With knapsack Moderne,
AND emergency pack..
As daughter called it,
Pecked cheek.
Visions of a muffin sweet ...

Room packed, tension high ..
Only a back row perch ,
But here she is,
all eyes affixed.
Off we go from Kingsford Smith...
But drama unfolds as
Marrakesh and images ,
Two hundred in point two seven ,
Too fast for senior vision,
Flash by.
Hands to mouth,
The dreaded curse;
Bearded Raleighs leap to aid
one disbelieving Sylvian Maid.
But above the din,
A ring steps in,
Of a persistent cell,
Like an angry bell:
This I hate ,
Boo! Philistine! ,
Don't spoil Sylvia's fun,
or mine.
But then my ears perceive ..
Oh no not ME?
As I realise
with pounding heart ,
My muffin rings
but where's it at?
Scramble for pockets this, that.
Rise, turn, bag aboard ,
And head for safety,
The corridor door .
Outside it's pitch,
Please a switch..?
In vain.
Then silence.
I'm in the store!....
For chairs...
Warmed by Rear Sir Walters galore:
No light, no hope, forlorn despair .
Deep breath,
Re-enter the ambient air,
Of the repaired Silk Road;
Faces stern suppressing mirth:
No muffin no show,
Sadly, I go.

DG 2014