Antique Shop

There it is again. That morning sun.
The off-white egg cup, yellow-rimmed,
its crowing rooster on a tiny fence.
How many mornings in Grandma’s
kitchen are encapsulated in that cup?

Enough to make me linger here
for a moment, alongside the Texaco
Fire Chief sign that must be someone’s
Christmas morning, frosty midday,
or string of slow-moving afternoons,
leaning on a mop in some service bay,
the foot-dragging wall clock, neon-lit,
circling over the bench, an angry wasp.