Pawn-Window Hope
by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com
As Sidney Lumet (now deceased) presented his masterpiece, “The Pawnbroker” scored by the legendary Quincy Jones,(turns 80 This Thursday) with director of photography, Boris Kaufman (also deceased) depicted, there are window shoppers, and then, there are pawn window gazers. Today’s digital modernization of “means for survival” begs the question: What price identity? You remember Stieger’s utterance? “You are special, even in poverty.” (part of one of the great monologs in cinema history: “How come you people?”) Okay, so I’m a bit angry with today’s social ignorance, having lived through a youthful period when social relevance was relevant, when paying the rent, through any means, was a medal of honor for many. (Image from Pawnbroker, the cinematic treasure)
Friday, January 29, 2016
Pawn-Window Hope
by Odin Roark
Storefront of rusted bars
fold in more brine laden dust
as circling shadows bid a sunrise welcome
amidst memory’s candles dimming,
where loathsome tears were evoked.
For so many…
Life begat treasures to be had,
effort’s reward for everyone willing to work,
now but imagined smoke
dancing the dirge of failure’s funeral.
Behind fortified windows,
where ceiling cameras
roam the cage of desperation bounty,
memories claw at their tags
while muted screams
tender habitual sympathy.
A shopper,
a victim,
a pawn-junky,
all steady patrons
of this boulevard-of-dreams-detour,
life’s arrhythmic breath of soured aftertaste
searching for yet another grainy claim check,
perhaps theirs,
perhaps the neighbor’s
perhaps another dreamer’s,
theirs to be had for the right price.
Such was once the every day
pawn-window gaze,
now an ebay bonanza of goods for cheap.
So many selling,
so many wanting only next month’s rent,
so many wanting merely to exist,
so goes the pawn window-hope needing…
desperately hoping to just survive.
(Epilogue: You ever think about the plight of those particular “great people,” Mr. Trump?)
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In my up-and-down neighborhood many pawn shops have sprung up, come and gone, but I have never entered any of them even in curiosity. Watching PawnStars on television one would think that the pawn business is all about making money with historical artifacts. I think your poem is closer to the reality that so many are faced with. Seeing no way out, they begin to pawn their most precious possessions that they work so hard to obtain in the first place.
And yes, eBay has become the pawnshop of this century, ubiquitous and impersonal. Hiding many sinking into poverty on trumped up, trickle down hypocrisy.
Ron
PS. The other view is a street side window of Tiffany's. ;-)