the tourists with their T-shirt souvenirs...
the vendors with their carts of crafts and wares...
exclusive shops boast latest haute couteur....
the posers sip espressos while they glare

at homeless people wearing ragged clothes;
the sidewalk promenade their only home.
the street performers randomly impose...
houdinis, mimes and drummers chanting poems...

i wander Santa Monica appalled
at dearth of any lasting worth it holds.
perhaps some vain magician has enthralled
the populace. - enchanted, scammed and fooled!

compassion's  banished from these streets of gold;
as other travesty that can't be sold.