lies at the next turn, a sign says,
displayed in a place where ducks
stop traffic and families picnic

by a manufactured lake. It shimmers
through glazed windows to highlight
the outdated design of your current life.

Its illusions are fully furnished,
affirming your sense of entitlement.
It follows you like a smiling estate agent

who claims happiness is going
once, going twice. But it's nothing
of value if your dreams are less

material in form, or if you sleep
in parks with department store catalogues
rolled up as pillows. If you're more

an investor in the mind's architecture
you'll be aware no matter how many rooms
all buildings are hollow inside.

You will have seen the signs
before the developers leave
and the lake is full of weeds and duck shit.

You'll have already heard
the lifestyle you deserve
is always somewhere else.