It is certainly not
a vacant lot!
Nothing vacant about it.
Hasn’t been vacant
since spring –
from vacant imaginable
to wit: 472 varieties of fern alone
each fanning the others
like so many nubians
hired by some portly pasha
[sitting on his mossy cushions]
and back behind the derelict billboard
[where kids used to roast potatoes
just before Christmas]
the out-of-wedlock runaway
of a tigerlily and a passionflower
[exquisite beauty] is given
to mild bouts of paranoia
as she is the only flower of her kind
in the entire world. She hides
from would-be assassins
by folding up at night.
An army of pinhead purple weeds
guards her sanctuary [and I know
she’s got dormice spies
all over the place]
and who knows who
lives under the shanty town milk crate –
No, it’s the antithesis of empty,
this, ahem, vacant lot.