Black Cairo, November 3, 1999.

(C) Copyright 1999, Mahmoud A. El-Gamal.

She gazed upon her crowd,

defiant, loud and proud.

Her wedding was their funeral;

her dress, their smokey shroud.

A metropolic grave,

she took more than she gave;

consuming in orgastic pants

the life-blood of her knave.

And to the rhythm of her heaves,

a giant spider sways and weaves

a monstrous web of tar and steel,

which - as it heaves - bereaves and grieves.

I knew her as a growing boy,

and in her arms I found much joy.

But now she smiles with rotten teeth

and tells me it was all a ploy.

A ploy which worked, for I'm in awe:

I still loved her through all I saw.