a tourist

Men of age, with cardigans and french berets,
have scrounged enough for a loaf of bread.
Their countenance -
once cultivated by a humble resoluteness -
has grown red with poverty and the weather.
And their wisdom has grown drowsy
and acquainted with the spirit of the city.

Stray dogs wander the streets with them,
and linger outside the produce store.
Men with arrogant suits and a respectable air pass by -
Their word and their name.
Boys long to be a Man of their Time.
The women go shopping.
The women want security.
Girls pass by -
I'm so fuckin lonely all the time!
I'd use her breasts to rest my head,
wake up and lick her face