Fresh Lumber

The trusses are stacked​ ​neatly ​​at the edge of the road ​a wooden arrow pointing ​nowhere ​for now. After the late rain​ steamed in halfhearted, slunk away ​defeated,

The trusses are stacked​
​neatly
​​at the edge of the road
​a wooden arrow pointing
​nowhere
​for now.

After the late rain​
steamed in
halfhearted,
slunk away
​defeated,

​​wet pine, sand, formaldehyde
​hang in the air
​at eye level

​​homey

​​and poisonous.

You are here. But you could be here or here. I mean, if you aren't too busy.