It seems that everywhere in world’s major cities and places
Golden arches are raised to the triumph of the heifer and buns
A lingering stench of burnt fats replace the town’s original spice scents
The shards of ageless tradition slowly consumed in its slow extinction
Wantonly strewn like the fallen and the dead on the monopoly battlefield
Stricken by some invisible War of the Worlds microwave death-ray
Photo Hugh Ardoin The Galleries