Script Consultant

 
Robed with incense,  richly professorial,
The Cambodian monk,  in exile on a beach in Thailand,
Tells my fortune;  affirms the fabulous ending
On a veranda dusted with white sand.

Checking,  rechecking frail charts
Of treasured Khmerian script -  attuned
To an almost-inaudible  call-and-response
Behind the entertainment.

The universe is created and destroyed
Forty thousand times a second;  
Dark in the skull;  explosive
Retinal bombardment -

Opening now,  a major motion picture
Projected onto clouds.