By July
even the baked
wasteland
of cracked highway
median strips—is busting
with thick
and scraggly
whitepurple weedy flowers—
not arranged
for display
but just—stacked deep
and cheaply
and out of
the way—it's as though
even the rough
and glorious old
stock of wild wilderness
has run out
of space in which
to call itself
a place! and has as of late
started creeping
into this—weird new field
called logistics.