On-the-go poetry entry #3

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The Pawn Shop

Just your usual, hole in the wall sort of place.

Where people sell the christmas presents they never wanted, toys their kids have outgrown, or anniversary gifts that have been collecting dust for far too long. Where memories are abandoned for twenty cents a piece and some extra storage space in the hall closet. 

That old ring grandpa gave mom when grandma got sick helped pay rent one more month, too bad mom didn't have more of those laying around. I guess I wasn't supposed to tell. 

But, this is America! You can also score some great deals! 

You can own a new stereo system, for the low price of it being stolen out of a college kid's car who spent a year saving up for it. They didn't add that to the little green label. 

How about shelf price? Fifty-nine ninety nine, sale on that today! Boy, that's cheaper than online.

I love me a good trip to the pawn shop. There one of the only establishments that embraces its seediness. Where you can walk in and safely guess that you're not the guiltiest one in the room.

Just release and forget! Or pick up and save! 

Over here at the pawn shop.

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