He walks in Labels like a peacock
The cosmopolitan man from UAE
With his stiff Kandoora rustling
As he hurries, picking up his step
To show his Gucci sandals
And the fact that he matched it
With his brand new cap.
He readjusts it just so you notice
Trying not to smirk from behind
His Ray Ban aviators.
On his BlackBerry glimpses of Facebook
His phone rings and he speaks in the mouthpiece
Hooded gazes glancing at you ever so casual
I'm wanted. I'm special. But there's room for you too
He walks proudly, shoulders back
Chest puffed up with his own importance
Strutting like a Brad Pitt who has yet to
Find his voluptuous Angelia Jolie
It could be you…
He takes off his cap and runs a hand through
His perfectly coiffed hair and gives a long suffering sigh
You don't know what you're missing, he seems to say
And though his beauty does make a girl's heart pound
Long black lashes and perfectly trimmed beard
A salute to the modern Bedouin, but a reminder
That he could have walked off the Louis Vuitton Ad
And the lips that know all the lines to reel a woman in
There he goes with his soulful eyes…
Oh and here comes the pang of longing
And the heavy knowledge that for all his beauty
He is just a shell of all that he could be
There are no longer heroes for the modern woman
Chivalry is dead along with the dream of the knight
On a white charger to rescue you from the dragons of this age
Where is the hero?
Where is the poet?
And just who is this poor cosmopolitan
Woman supposed to hold out for?