“I went to the suburbs to get away”

by Sam Rhodes

When the life of second fades to primer;
And stucco strangles wooden struts of old;
Undue additions tacked on by contractor;
Lot profits doubled by cleavage furrow;
The solidness of foundation forgot;
And insulation mounted against speech;
And drafts of mind filled in with mindless caulk;
Adopting boundaries talking heads beseech;
Moved not by thought nor things beyond the fence;
Your coffee table paved with common cents.

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