An Ancient RuIn
The guide with his cheesy hat, and colorful umbrella
encourages us to: gather 'round.
His anecdotal spiel is by rote. His shtick is fact-slim
and slick, but it’s also my current gestalt as I am dragged
unwillingly along by his CliffsNotes speech.
What catches my wandering eye
is that one of those ruined effigies
is a fair facsimile of myself.
He (a god/king of some minor something),
looks mildly disgusted, as if
a bothersome fly had landed on his crumbling nose.
My world-weary face reflects perfectly
his sour mien.
At last, I am processed meekly
back onto the tour bus, where predictably,
my fellow passengers are already
peering forward into a new fancifully imagined past
from an equally fanciful present.
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