Vacancy

Dear Vacancy,

You’ve remained on the buzzing

neon sign at the Driftwood Inn

on Red Arrow Highway for so long now

that folks

might start to wonder

if you secretly

own

the place:

the sandlot out front where

stray cats like to scratch,

and yellowed bones

of beech trees near that ditch

by the road. The shutters

on the windows?

They’re fake, and look, one’s

fallen off. Blue

paint on the doors, it tears away

like strips of paper;

the only rented rooms

are the yellowjacket nests.