Khan Through the hookah-flavored streets
of the Cairo Bazaar
a boy sits amongst the ruins
of ancient treasures
and riches he’ll never know,
inhaling the last breath of a cigarette
that has betrayed him for too long.

Armies of women
concealed under cloths of black,
drown themselves in perfumes
that will mask the stench of their endless labor,
while their babies weep
from the sound of the Quran
through the speakers
that invades their sleepy, Friday mornings.

When all the shoppers
have safely gone home
to their villas in the sky,
a boy sits amongst the ruins
of the great Cairo bazaar
inhaling the last breath of sun
as it slowly burns itself to ash.