The sign hanging from the shop door
read “Closed Forever.” Frequently
I’d drop in, hooked by junk out front.

I didn’t need the plates or containers
but it was a steal. Until once, a day later,
I found entirely new merchandise.

Another racket! They could take their time
to “go out of business” but not with me.
Not another dollar from my wallet.

So I felt somewhat triumphant,
until this morning, when I stood outside.
I felt something lost and didn’t know why.


#### Poet’s Notes ####

Photo of First Draft:


Closed Forever


The store on Fulton Street in New York City:


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