by F H Erba
so dry it suffocates.
Covering up is cooler than
baring all and it prevents hot tempers
when you’re holding hands with a whiter than white man.
of the Western tourists
wearing sleeveless t-shirts and shorts,
but I dress conservatively unless
I want the dagger-looks stabbed in my direction.
fiercely hot days,
we walk from one hotel
to the next, to stop heat zapping
the energy needed, to place, one foot
in front, of the other. Walk. Slow. Like. E-gyp-tians.
sweet, dark, mazboot
whilst playing their towla
smoking apple scented shisha -
the only woman in the coffee shop.
The locals become curious, perplexed, impressed.
for locals and tourists,
charging Westerners ten times more.
Of course, if you read Arabic numbers
you can impress yet confuse, making them wonder.
tastes of home not abroad.
Their lack of attention to time
has been with me since birth due to my dad.
Pale, pink skin and blue eyes betray my origin.