reflections on Last Vegas
Re:Invent, 2025

From the moment I
emerge from the A321 at Harry Reid,
into the Fourth Circle of the Inferno,
the auditory assault commences.

Bells and klaxons accompanied by
leering show girls and roaring dragons.

There is so much to be won!
Perhaps not by you.

I, the reluctant Candide,
running the auto da fé
for listening to the heresy of Pangloss:
This year will be fun!

I had breakfast this morning
at a lovely French café
at the base of an ersatz Eiffel,
the waiter shouting
from a few centimeters away
to enquire how I would
desire mes oeufs.
I yelled back that over easy would be
magnifique.

The cacophany is constant
the bells, bells, bells, bells
the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

While I desire, in the words of James Kirkup,
the sanctuary of the guestroom
where the bedlam is muffled,
but still unremitting.

Soon I must emerge, and go to work,
incredulous, as each year
that these throngs come here
voluntarily.