Behind the Fence

The 'For Sale' sign, half-gone

behind the wire diamond mesh,

a crooked plastic smile.

Someone tried to hang it right,

but it slipped, got snagged.

Weeds thick, like green smoke,

climbing the steel, swallowing

the bottom edge of the message.

Just 'For Sal' maybe, or 'Sale'.

Who knows what was really offered.

Always something on the other side,

isn't there?

Visible, but not quite.

Through the grid, through the grime,

just a glimpse of what isn't yours,

what you can't quite reach.