Wales to Egypt (redraft)

March 27, 2008

The small stone house
with it’s hard to light engine.
The cold pine floor
with it’s warm kitchen.

The carpet covered lift,
seventh floor balcony, huge room
with the white sheets, tea
we got from room service.

We remember:

cycling down hill,
rain hammering
plastic rivers over overalls –
collecting in the collars of our hoods.

We remember:

Hatshepsuit – the female ruler with the
stone beard. Wedding cake of
wide stairs, Egyptian children
running down them with their

arms spread full tilt.

At five in the morning, listening to the
sigh of traffic – waiting for the
sky to lighten
meaning work –

I can’t not think –

of the wind trapped hill, walk along the Nile,
man who asked for money
’cause he knew us from the
hotel.

I can’t not think –

of the place we bought the calibir
the freezing cold November pier
the crammed souks,
and the dark mud,

the lost coat;
things found.

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