Stop.

Hold that thought…

before you tweet, twat, telegraph

it to the sky teeming

with passenger people

that call you friend

Turn it over in your hand

Ah! your hand!

poor forgotten house

on the edge of Bone-Town

everybody’s moving out

its value dropped

from ten to double digits

no one wants to live

by hands these days

location, location, location

is liability

nowhere is better

far and away

easier to sell

Hold your thought

fix it up

before you turn it over

your poor hand is on the dole

give it work

all ten uncles

there’s no dignity

in handouts.

that’s my thought

all I got

Hold it

Turn it over

before you turn it out

by hitting SEND