A Little Mystery

A sandwich half,
rectangular,
balanced on its crust-less side,
outside a workmen’s breakfast bar,
as if awaiting transport from
the wet concrete
of this grey business street.

Was it placed like that,
a doll-maker’s hands
arranging his new
and gay-painted Victorian
upon a matchstick chaise?

Or did it land that way,
a mere anomaly of chance?