Moving house is such the pits; all the old certainties that <br />were there forever all to be packed up in boxes.Views out <br />of most windows I look through, especially since the next <br />door neighbour’s house was burnt to the ground. <br /> <br />His house bulldozed out of the way revealing panoramic views; all to be lost. It didn't help that the old lady two houses <br />down also left; My house is now a prime target for the <br />Department Of Housing redevelopment plans. <br /> <br />I have lived here for the past 10 years the Department Of Housing says move on please; making me a wandering nomad wandering to the next house. Never living long enough <br />to take root, they only say move on please. <br /> <br />Then fear gripped me because I’ve always loved my fibro country. In the past I have lived in Brickveneersville a place I regard as a fool’s paradise, because people think because they live there it immunises them from economic harm. <br /> <br />Due to Sub Prime and Ninja (No income No Jobs) home loans crises in the United States and interest rates people in Brickveneersville are losing their homes.The repossession squads are out repossessing homes in all suburbs. <br /> <br />However, the Department Of Housing seems to be merciful in that they say to me never mind we’ll find you another fibro house. The Dept pays for the removalist, relocation of my air- con, and even giving me a new garden shed. <br /> <br />All bribes so that I go quietly and without much fuss; my wife swears blind we’re not moving again. As for me I love my fibro country, my people, my land where I belong away from Brickveneersville and Taj Mahalsville.© <br /> <br /> 1/4/2008<br /><br />Jerry Behr Number 2<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/moving-house-3/
