Thick green weeds keep growing
in the empty lot behind the dollar store.
The old Family Dollar —
not the nice Dollar Tree,
where they sell the frozen dinners
and the picture frames.
They used to sell flowers in that lot —
they'd always take time to cover the plants
with a tarp when it rained.
Now, the only time I see tarps are the ones
covering roofs that will never be patched.
If I could come back as a bird,
then I'd make my nest in a short tree —
a tree too small to pierce through anyone's roof
or windows. And I'll never, ever be too far
from the ground.
