First there was the luggage, then the ship.
A centaur followed us, his legs a man’s, his face a girl’s—
Some of us unfolded deck chairs but our books
Survived no better than the flag.
By the end of the week they were shredded.
The god sits on a throne of gold and ivory.
On his scepter sits an eagle.
His robes and sandals, too, are fashioned of gold.
I could go on like this; there was
Nothing on the ship but time.
Time to read, to think, but mostly
Time to read nothing, to think about nothing.
Zeus is long since melted down
Though you can see the molds
From which his robes were cast.
In the middle of the sea, no land in sight, you might be anyone.
Except you’re never in the middle, you’re at the edge.
Why won’t you come with me,
Why must I go alone,
Cried the first man ever to die, no one
To accompany him, no comrade, no lover or child.
I could have stayed in our stateroom forever,
Except that I was hungry, I had to eat.
And when the ship docked finally in Marseilles
I packed up my toiletries,
I thanked the porter, called a cab.
TODAY IN SLATE
Justice Ginsburg’s Crucial Dissent in the Texas Voter ID Case
The Jarring Experience of Watching White Americans Speak Frankly About Race
How Facebook’s New Feature Could Come in Handy During a Disaster
The Most Ingenious Teaching Device Ever Invented
Sprawl, Decadence, and Environmental Ruin in Nevada
You Should Be Able to Sell Your Kidney
Or at least trade it for something.
- Texas Lab Worker on Cruise Tests Negative for Ebola as Dallas Hospital Apologizes
- Police Use Tear Gas to Break Up College Pumpkin Festival Turned Violent
- Racist Rancher Cliven Bundy Challenges Eric Holder in Bizarre Campaign Ad
- Supreme Court Allows Texas Law That Accepts Handgun Permits but not College IDs to Vote
An All-Female Mission to Mars
As a NASA guinea pig, I verified that women would be cheaper to launch than men.