Ceased

At first glance, it was as if time had stopped 
when I had left there seven years before, 
only starting anew upon my return. 
But in looking carefully, I found 
many things that clearly could not have been 
there before. A freshly filled pothole, 
an illegally parked Lincoln Mark VIII, 
a banner advertising the fifteenth edition 
of Montreal’s annual fireworks competition, 
a small European-style café with a sign
outside its window seeking summer hires — 
all evidence that seven years had passed.