On Tourists

Tourist—
O creature of two lives:

one moment
on the dry land
of boredom,

the next
in the swamp
of reels.

Now on Instagram,
now beneath X.

You flee
your pitiful emptiness—

yet in your suitcase
you carry nothing
but it—piece by piece

In your selfies
the only symmetry
is

the graveyard
of history
behind you,

and the face
of an ape.

You do not taste culture—
you lick its image.

You…

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