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