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“$425K for a petite 2-room Prospect Heights co-op
with fresh upgrades”, Brooklyn, NY

One hundred’s a lot, and a thousand
is many times more, I’ll concede;
(don’t ask me to count to ten thousand
a skill I hope never to need).
But four times a hundred thousand
should warrant a gold-plated deed.

Though numbers were never my strong suit –
(I might as well draw from a hat)
at four hundred thousand and counting
your wallet would have to be fat.
I shudder to think someone’s spending
as much for a crash-pad as that.

It’s not that they’re selling a mansion
or penthouse or speakeasy lair:
the kitchen’s disguised by a louver;
the loo is out under the stair.
They’re selling a postage-stamp cubby:
disgrace to the term “pied-à-terre.”

The neighborhood can’t be called tony;
the upgrades are not even close,
and “needs loving care” doesn’t touch it –
it calls for a life-saving dose.
So at four hundred thousand and counting
the price-tag’s a tad grandiose.

Four hundred could well be four thousand
for those of us challenged in sums.
But when you retorted, “Four million
would not be too high for those bums”
I gathered a whiff of resentment:
these real estate agents aren’t chums, alas,
these real estate agents aren’t chums.