All Roads Lead to the Pawn Shop

Poetry

Photo by Vi Vibbit on Unsplash

They look at the walls and the doors of the business
They hope to find a job vacancy

They stay for a while on the park benches
To see the new posts on the Facebook job market

They fill out job application forms
Leaving in blank the position they apply for

They walk around, and they look
At the walls and the doors of the business

Days become weeks, and weeks become months
Time gets infected with exponential growth

How fast must we run to not lag behind?
How fast must we move to not be disposable?

They try to remember if they have something left to pawn
As the sun is setting down and the promised vacancy does not appear

The world is not waiting for anyone
Yet, not lending a helping hand is not a cleaning measure.