To An Old Lover In Egypt

I read you are in Egypt,
and I am jealous.
I see you standing under the sun of Ra,
squinting your blue eyes at the timeless horizon.
Do you think of me, and my flesh,
While you dust ancient bones?
Does Aida still echo through the Memphis temple?
Once when we lay together,
I was afraid you would go away to Alaska
Alaska big and white.
I never saw you in Egypt
but it seems like you now.
I can see your fine brown skin
covered with the sweat of Ramses.
Do the women of Cairo or Alexandria
suit you?
You are a walking puzzle
and now you match your outside.
Kiss the sphinx for me,
and smile back at her
like you used to in your sleep.