Had we but world enough and time,
These problems, laddy, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To schedule panels throughout the day;
Thou by the Washington meeting room
Shouldst sign up readers till crack of doom,
While I ensconced in Gold Rush A
Would listen to signing authors' plaints.
And you should dealers' table tend
Till interstitial programs end.
My karaoke song should sound
Louder than umpires at pitchers' mound.
But at my back I always hear
200 FOGmembers hurrying near
And yonder all before us be
March days 11 through 13.
Thy leisure shall no more be found,
Nor, in the downstairs bar shall sound
My echoing song; then guests shall try
To find Fritz Leiber in the night
And your quaint schedule lost and torn,
While Safety comforts those forlorn.
Carmel's* a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
Before exhaustion blears your eyes
And endless rushing chaps my thighs
Now let us schedule while we may;
And now, like hungry birds of prey,
Swoop upon each error fast,
Than languish till the deadline's past.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our panels, up into one ball;
And shove our schedules without a flaw
Into the printer's chomping maw.
Thus, though we cannot make our con
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
*Scans better than Nevada.
Lynn Alden Kendall