Los Cabos

There is a gap
in the roped-off beach
at Villa del Palmar

Where brown skinned vendors
in tattered hats
display their wares

Henna tattoos that last two weeks
cowboy hats in pink and blue
heavy cases strung with silverish strands

The rhythm of their language
seems to mock
the tanning gringoes in their chairs

You have to squeeze
your way through
to make it to the beach

And burning time-share owners
on their way to cool off
are careful to avoid those bark brown eyes

That's what the guide books say:
"Vendors can be annoying;
just ignore them as you pass."

It's hard to do

They sit there on their knees
while college boys boast of last night's drunken score
and fat retirees plan this evening's fun.

-James D. Starkey