someone says ‘Egypt’ and we all think ‘pyramids’.
it’s what we grew up envisioning, dreaming.
mummies and gold secrets,
heads that didn’t belong on bodies,
and other assorted mysteries.
and so you get there,
you round that corner of the concrete it sits next to,
and wonder why no one ever mentioned
the concrete it sits next to.
but that first glimpse, over the tour buses
and past the rent-a-camel rides.
it’s special.
not magic,
but special.
in a completist kind of way.
you’ve made it, you touch it
you’ve done it.
it’s smaller than you thought,
and the area that surrounds it is a shithole.
touts and kids and more touts offer everything,
even if it’s clear you need nothing, including everything.
the sphinx, I’m sorry, is tiny,
compared to the one in my 8 year-old mind.
and so you walk around and take the photos,
some even attempt at being funny with scope.
how original.
but you’re not supposed to say that, are you?
no one ever does.
they elude,
hint,
dance around the issue,
but never, never come clean.
it’s dirty,
but they still come.
it’s annoying,
because fuck you, you’re leaving tomorrow.
it’s, well, a let-down.
but it’s the last wonder of 7.
and so you’ll still go,
as well you should.
I highly suggest it.
and here are some photos that might make you think I’m lying.
