Beggars, hawkers and touts – a poem

Beggars, hawkers and touts

Beggars, hawkers and touts,
Vying for the tourist dollar.
Plying garish tourist tat
And giving it a holler.
Watching every move we make
Like the proverbial hawk.
Ready to pounce with a line
Should we stop to talk.

Living on the very edge
Reliant on penny trinkets.
Watching your eyes
Should you blink it’s
Straight in with the hard sell
Foisting tacky crap
Into the gullible hands
Of the affable tourist chap.

Opher 20.3.2019

There are stalls laden with more goods than they can possibly sell. Who buys it all? Is it all for show?
Most of it is shoddy rubbish – mementos for a holiday. But the stalls are all empty. Nobody is buying. The stall holders stare out morosely.
But should you stop to look, or betray an interest, they pounce and you are trapped within a situation. The only way out is insistence and firmness but they will have none of it.
Best not to look. Best not to stop. Best not to talk.
They are their own worst enemies. But desperation drives the need.

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