Concrete Orchid

[Verse 1]
The rental Kia got a Hilton Head bumper sticker.
I’m watering ferns, the Tuesday sun gets mean and thicker.
She’s gonna step out in shoes too white for this red clay soil,
ask about the “sweetgrass ladies” with that sweet-iced-tea in her voice.
He’ll call me ‘hon,’ check his watch, got a tee time over on the island.
Catalog the whole exchange before it even starts, I’m filing
this specimen under *invasive*, see the way their roots don’t take?
Just a shallow grip on the surface for a photograph’s sake.

[Chorus]
Concrete orchid in the fault line crack.
Got more history than a historic plaque.
Never even asked (…)
To take its own damn space back.

[Verse 2]
He’ll touch a palmetto frond like he discovered it first.
A hundred-dollar bill for a plant I can tell he’s gonna let die of thirst.
He’ll try to pronounce “Gullah,” get it wrong with a politician’s grin.
I’m thinking ‘bout the pluff mud under the foundation of the inn
where they’re sleeping tonight. The rot, the salt, the billion tiny lives
they build their little vacation over. The part of this town that survives.
I’ll just nod my head, give ‘em the discount for the chamber of commerce.
Just another ghost in their story, no narrator, just a chorus.

[Chorus]
Concrete orchid in the fault line crack.
Got more history than a historic plaque.
Never even asked (…)
To take its own damn space back.

(Music fades to silence for 3-5 seconds)

[Outro]
She finally looks up from her phone, says, “It must be so simple here.”
The orchid pushes up another half an inch. The coast is clear.