The Removal of the Foundation

Poem

The sign said PRODUCE. The sign said OPEN UNTIL NINE. The sign said FRESH DAILY.

You took the sign down on a Tuesday. The brackets stayed. The bolts stayed. The shadow of the sign stayed - its rectangle cleaner than the wall around it.

You stood where the entrance was. The door had moved to the side of the building. The new door said ENTRANCE in smaller letters.

You wanted the produce. You walked to Marylebone Road where the place that opens late fries chips in the same oil your chip shop used.

The woman there doesn't know your order. You told her. She remembered next time.

The bolts held the sign. The sign held the promise. The promise held the door. The door held the street.

The street moved. You moved with it. Your shadow on the clean rectangle where the sign was is already turning toward the road that doesn't go there yet.