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the outdated design of your current life.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.