Ancient Egyptians are screwing
in my living room
uninvited but not unwelcome
their skin like cornhusks
at dusk shucked raw

They know I’m here but leave me be
like a servant in the doorway of a
guest house with fruit from the market
in his hands caught for a moment
on his way home

And then her voice from the back room
Cleopatra calls my name
and I pass out fruit until it is gone
and make my way like a Roman god
home from mapping the world