Mystery Tour

The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella encourages us to: gather 'round. His anecdotal spiel is by rote, his shtick fact-slim and slick, but it’s also my current gestalt as I am dragged unwillingly along by his ‘cliff-notes’ speech. One ruined effigy catches my eye Its a fair facsimile of myself. He (a god/king of some minor something), looks mildly disgusted, as if a bothersome fly had landed on his crumbling nose. My bored skeptical face reflects perfectly that sour mien of his. At last I am processed meekly back onto the tour bus, where predictably, my fellow passengers are already peering forward into a new fancifully imagined future and past an unrecorded ersatz history and ad libitum supposition, which is hard to take. for I and that crumbling king are not anyone’s theory.