ENJOY THE REVOLUTION

the revolution came;
the revolution ended
and on a January morning
by an unkempt bed
a radio with its broken dial
hissed the resignation noise at seven.
Tahrir Square emptied in a languid hush.
after the celebration and the great storm
ordinary people went hauling the dead, the dying, and all that blood;
the discarded papers, the unofficial hopes, the ideals
sat waiting for a taxi on historic Cairo street corners.
nearby a tea vendor sipped his brew, wondering.
i too watched them, under tattered banners.
meanwhile, waiting for the cleanup crew
were men in army uniforms with sharp interests
and even sharper wit with tanks.
then, later in the cafe
near the green cellar door
by the red vinyl Coca Cola cover
curious faces were sketched in black and white
as fate would have it.
simple martyrs drawn on an old concrete wall
their rows of eyes in shaded light watching near my empty glass
which i held loosely in the curling smoke of
frequent customers who were
opening and closing new packs of lucky cigarettes
all black hair and boasts of brotherhood
exchanging glances and twitter posts.
their ash trays were empty
but the air was full of dreams.
soon, the military council would watch a new sun rise
where once the desert sun watched millions
of  protesters from Egyptian cities and towns
who now rested on hard curbs and flat roofs
where Al Jazeera satellite could find them
underneath their ancient pyramid shadow,
still searching for honest work and a simple piece of bread.
tear-gas canisters rolled from view
leaving a scar on each forehead.
the revolution came,
the revolution ended
and it was crazy for a time
with women out at night, unafraid,
and young men in cars honking at the dawn.