Portal

Nov 23 2011

In the strip mall

where my hair gets cut

the vacant storefront

has finally been filled.

But I’m sure another plate glass window

will soon go dark

papered shut,

so these cheek-by-jowl shops

will again smile jaggedly

   —  a tough guy

in a rough neighbourhood

with a tooth knocked out.

There was The Bagel Nosh

Shawarma Shop

bulk cheese outlet,

Kebab-Stop
Iron Wok

Hawaiian Pizza. 

All-you-can-eat,

until they were eaten out

or driven by

on the way to KFC.

The asphalt is heaving, crumbling

faded black.

In summer, it bakes,

turning off the main road

over the sidewalk

onto the lot.

The whole earth

paved over.

In winter, there’s nowhere for snow,

ploughed into mountains of dirty white

honeycombed ice,

adorned with crumpled wrappers
discarded cups.

Soggy butts,

still blushing

with cherry lipstick.

Once a month

I am transformed

into a well-groomed man.

I sit in the red pneumatic chair

and look at myself

reflecting back and forth,

shrinking, receding

all the way out

to the vanishing point.

Where I disappear,

too small

for human eyes to resolve,

for the physics

of light, and mirrors.

A small strip mall,

that could be bulldozed

and no one would notice.

But there, for a moment

that mirrored wall
was the smooth silvered surface
of a reflecting pool

opening up to the infinite,

and I peered in at myself

falling
into a bottomless black hole.

Imagine

contained in this shabby shop

a portal out to the universe.

Which quickly closed,

returning me to earth

in time for lunch,

well-trimmed

neatly parted. 

Next time, perhaps

I’ll take the plunge.