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.