Ghost Sign, Uncaring Stone

The corner store is gone, or changed.

That neon 'DELI' I remember

is a vape shop now, rearranged,

its new bright face a stark dismember-

ment of what it was. I see

the faint outline, a faded 'GROCERY',

behind the plastic. Only me,

perhaps, still traces its memory.

The sidewalk grinds, indifferent shoes

walk past, their faces blank and quick.

This city never stopped to choose

who stayed, who left, or what would stick.

It simply built, then tore down more,

a constant, shifting, concrete tide.

My childhood, a small, painted door,

ignored, just painted over, wide

and bright with something new. No one

looks back. No one remembers it

except the one who's always run

this endless loop, a tired, quiet fit.