Pawnshop Midas
They call him

Born of the bottom line
where a house of cards seduction
spreads naked its adorned windows

Trumpet

Drum

Toaster

Gun

Tags tied securely
like morgue slab identities
yesterday’s prices crossed out
today’s prices urged Fineto

Behind counter
man and possessions
awaits swing of the door

Tinkle bell striking

Announcement of sellers
new members from
Hardships’ Recruitment Patrol
determined to be tagged

Pawnshop Midas
They call him

Staring vacuously
as unlucky minions trudge onward
along Desperation’s super-highway
entering today’s station
willing to kneel even lower

‘til

‘til reaching
that Somewhere
that Piñata-hope of survival
that reward seemingly just out of reach
breath awaits permission

Lowering reflective eyes
the sidewalk soul relents
occasion’s original cost collides
with memory about to vanish

Thrust forward

Clutched tightly

Life’s cookie-jar treasures
family decorations
today’s looms sans heir
breathes another time once more
whispering survivor’s rules of engagement

squeeze
twist
hammer
melt

Eyes meet

The plea

 “To feed the belly,” Mr. Nazerman
“Cover the body
"Stay alive”

Mr Nazerman's echo
 “One dollar”

 "But…"

 silence...

 “One dollar”