because i can't be a touristi don't build those memories
that people collect
and store away like photographs
picture perfect snapshots
of moments that never
really
existed
music that plays
to create a false atmosphere
i look behind the curtain
because i can't be tourist
i wander around searching for something
real
seeing only beauty in the blemishes
that mark a daily life
its a photo full of shadows
that illuminates my trip
and makes me miss that spot
just outside a little house in guinea
on a red dirt road
where kids kick up the dust
in a fierce game of football
roadside stalls lit up by candlelight
where the conversation is sweet
and dull
about everything and nothing
because i can't be a tourist
i argue with myself
about how i'll spend my days
lost in thought
and wondering where i left it
