Technobank
(My Project Equinox Poem)
The traffic lights flash yellow
Banker�s hours challenge
By midmorning the lobby fills
The bank is but a dying breed
The early rising CEO
early on the autumn equinox
road wet from raindrops
wipers intermittent
headlights burning hours
before schoolbuses
would start their engines.
the early rising executive
a cup of coffee
Wallstreet Journal
and pink telephone slips
await him atop
the tumultuous desk.
with the sound of customers
slowly streaming in
some jovial some not
their voices blend
with machinery counting coins
telephones ringing
ten key calculators whining.
of an establishment for exchange
tellers and lenders gradually replaced
by technologically means of transacting
via telephones
ATMs
computers.
discontent in his chair
observes today�s traffic
wonders what will become
of tomorrow�s clientele
of the costly brick and mortar
scattered throughout the town
and especially of his
and his workers positions.