The Pawnbroker

The Pawnbroker

A Poem by Jacob L. Moeller

The old pawnbroker rarely stopped drinking.
He'd get to the bottom
of a bottle
and break it.

He fiddled with forgotten wedding rings-
collecting limp hand shakes
and memories
and money.

He bore his dusty grandfather clock face
looked like a long rough road
lost amongst stars
and moonshine.

© 2011 Jacob L. Moeller


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Added on September 20, 2011
Last Updated on September 20, 2011