Osiris watches as his medley of souls twinkle through the arms of Orion and the kiss of Artemis overhangs his realm. His sky lights the Nile, and his breath blows the feluccas as they drift on the current that once carried Moses.
The back streets are empty, but for packs of dogs and cats whose ribs rise-up through lack-luster coats. And horses used to pull tourists in traps during the day are tied outside high row houses situated on dirt streets. In the cool of night old men smoke water pipes. They sit on steps under Christian crosses that are embossed on timber doors over brass letter boxes.
Streaks of gold, violet and reds switch the skyline and silhouette the neon that straddles the McDonald's sign and Osiris waits: he waits while Luxor dresses Thebes.