Poem -

thoughts on man made tourism

thoughts on man made tourism

where are the brown eyed boys
running with tea and lemon sliced
through narrow spice bazaars?
streaming plastic smiles before me,
and public emotion squeezed from
hospitality and chasing the lira,
how well they have packaged the English ideal break,
I could be in Blackpool. 
it's not my Turkey. 

 

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