Crumples in an interstate hotel 
meeting room after declaring
that green infrastructure
is spray painted steel faking
it til it makes it.  

Heads nodding,
several city officers declare
the site a scenic easement.
A solemn brown road sign is ordered,
because a rock fence would be over-budget.  

Small area plans for tiny minds
with a fleeing deer mentality sprung
between the asphalt ribbons.
Munching on milkweed and dodging trucks
they codify 128k acres as rural greenspace
and think it means freedom.  

Infill becomes our haunt.
We are mice in the superstructure,
ghosts in the shells of steel & cracked concrete,
spirits in the blackened window
of progress and commerce.