before we signed here and here and there and once more on this one
to trade one third of our income these next thirty years for a home
surrounded by the dying and the absent. Someday we we’ll no longer be
the youngest couple on this street and the land shall flow
with milk and honey and, more to the point, wifi, letting evil find easier passage
through our lives rather than taking up residence a thousand feet
from our front door, signaling the lost and the angry of our wired world that
here is the hell from which thy demons came.