Last night, talking to the guy
I was trying to get to know
while the waitresses were clearing up the tables
I wondered how it would feel to go into the Nile

I would sneak out after lunch,
fire up the old Cherokee, roll down the windows,
let the wind hastily brush my cheeks
and when it catches my hair and pulls it back,
I'll pretend I'm in a bright red convertible.

I would go through the windy roads with the faded signs
Meander through some unknown streets until I get lost
then make my way back through the bridge
that is held in the air by its concrete legs
until I reach the hotel by the river Nile.

At last by the Nile, sitting at the edge of the deck,
I would observe how the river
dances lightly with the wind
swirling left, then to the right,
carrying the tiny slender insects
on a journey where they really go nowhere

I would imagine, first dipping
my right foot into the water,
watching, as my red coloured toes,
drown below the surface,
until my copper and silver anklets
are fully submerged.
Then my left foot will follow

I would close my eyes and feel my soul
slowly leak from my heart, down
through my legs and now shrivelled toes
and finally into the river.
Where it would spread out
in tiny advancing interwoven links
until it becomes one with the heart of the Nile

In the heart of the Nile I would be able to feel
the gentle breeze brushing the surface of the river,
the silent walks of the white egrets foraging for food
and the gentle sway of the boats
as they rock the fishermen to sleep
at the edge of the river.

But his voice brings me back to the present
where the wind has begun to blow cold.
His warm voice and wry smile,
along with the two shots of dry Tequila,
have awakened tingling thoughts in my head.
And I wonder, how it would feel
to show him my shiny waist beads.