ROME'S STREETSELLERS... (My poem about the street vendors in Rome when I visited in 2004...)

 Rome’s Streetsellers…

He skirts the crowds

Like a firefly in woods,

Displaying a myriad of lights.

Haggling,

Stalling,

Selling

To the disinterested, the unyielding and the inseparable

Lovers,

Who wave disparaging hands,

Not convinced

Or impressed by his flashing earrings,

One surmises,

Which may not be beautiful, yet are certainly

Bright….

They find their pitches

Like marked-out plots,

Revealing their instruments.

Tuning, 

Playing,

Serenading

Restaurant customers, locals and romantic

Lovers,

Who gaze into eyes,

Not appreciating,

Or listening, or even place

One Euro, or one coin

Into a musician’s cap, as

Supplements…

He moves crazily

Like he’s lost in a maze,

Grasping a dozen roses.

Offering,

Badgering,

Irritating

Visitors, sightseers and unsuspecting 

Lovers,

Who learn too late

Not to touch, reach out,

Or accept

One stem, one flower,

Which does not come free, as one

Supposes…

She glides insignificantly

Like she ghosts onto the scene,

Hanging scarves from her shoulder.

Diverging,

Displaying,

Harrying

Groups, families and couples,

Lovers

Who shrug away,

Not wanting contact

Or conversation,

One notices. Her sad eyes

Which drift into their souls,

Smoulder…

They loiter, despondent

Like spiritless detainees,

Guarding miscellaneous leather-ware.

Waiting,

Anticipating,

Inviting 

Tourists, travellers and warm, close

Lovers,

Who ignore and pass by,

Not even throwing cursory glances,

Or admire

One handbag, or one purse,

Which hold no interest to those,

Unaware…

Pete Ray

Rome, as I saw it in 2004…