Mos'ad's Girls

He used to get drunk at the smell of poems we put in fire every Thursday night in "El-Hadara ", searching for himself in their metaphors. Many times, I caught him smiling during our talk, hoping that our feelings' camera would come across him.
He believed strongly in us, as if we were those clever kids who hurry to pack their bags with angels' words that they dropped while changing the shift; whereas, alas!, he is the fat and dull boy !!. Then, he used to spring to his feet and perform "The Dance of the Mouse".
If only I could, I would write a whole poems book for Mos'ad, whom I consider equal to ten magnanimous angels. But, unfortunately, there is not a sufficient poem.
Mos'ad, whom I saw making peace between two young angels at the corner of the street. They both were quarrelling about who could make Mos'ad weep first.
He used to accuse me of being a " Don Juan ", while I envied him secretly for the girls he saved in his belly. When he sleeps, they wake up,
Go out naked and stay up dancing, tickling him and coloring his lips and cheeks with their lipsticks. They used to hide behind his snores as the morning spied on them through the window. His mother wondered about the smell of soap that filled the room, the red lips marks on the pillow and the kohl in his eye-lids.
He used to walk about on the shore of lovers, putting his hands in his pockets and his heart in a girlish phantom, spraying salt and bits of Arabian jasmine from his eyes. Then, he went back to the café, where he smoked a spoilt apple "shisha" in his chest and puffed twisting smoke like a woman until he got dizzy by her dance.
The porn movies , which he watched, used to excite dogs, cats, chickens, weasels and mice, while he sat alone crying with his shaking belly in front.
We all knew the tales of girls who loved him but he didn't notice. Like his neighbor girl who took off all her clothes on the opposite roof and he covered her with his shyness. Later, they found her drowned and naked in a poem of a friend.
And the girl who once caught him having a wet dream on her voice. Hence, she didn't stop singing. They tried to conceal her voice with walls, wedding processions, mikes of mosques, funerals and quarrels.
And the girl who used to wait for him in the hall and the dark after every performance. The torch of her eyes made him forget half of the scene. When he came across her in the market, he discovered that she was blind and he helped her to cross the way. Later, he heard that she set fire to herself and ran naked and dancing to the theatre.
And the foreign girl, his friend, who kept calling at him "I'll miss you... I'll miss you.." and her hair was turning to white as she went away.
That is apart from the women who dreamed of him while they were sleeping with their husbands, that all the children in the lane look like copies of him.All that ought to make each one of us try to cover his laugh by a new poem. When we thought of setting up a club for lonely hearts, we made him, for more camouflage, the venue of the club. We hung our poems, as well as false signs to mislead the girls who come to ask about him.