All In the Name of Progress 1st Addition

The wrecking ball long since demolished boyhood house zen located at 324 Level Road, a once rural residence, which soulful yen I called home since February 28th, 1968, when Boyce and Harriet Harris (my octogenarian widower father, a transplanted urban cowpoke father, and late outskirts of poker flats mother) than experienced livingsocial in the country, cuz aforesaid domain didst span, and encompass, one hundred plus acre estate listed in national register as "Glen Elm", where ran woodland surrounding a golden pond favored by Canadian Geese, but under game plan of commercial developer Donald Neilson (a tall lumbering "all business no play doh" man blueprints drafted for an army of vinyl city exemplifying Little boxes on the hillside ditty Little boxes made of ticky tacky...gritty material upending wildlife refuge, ah...what a pity yet, impossible to stop industrialization, the das capital way spurring thy preferential longing for nature preservation oye vey, and to make a million bucks in USA if land left off limits for propertied class today then in the near future, an aggressive builder will sashay confirming prophecy scooping up gobs of profit out maneuvering competition analogous to a marathon relay race quickly witnessing little boxes to sprout all the same by construction workers, who hammer away, nailing steady income, viz all work and no play, who maxim eyes American middle class dream asper buying affordable home after acquiring a mortgage to outlay their limited choice sans, may be there's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and yellow one, how zing free enterprise, and they're all made out of ticky tacky held together on a wing and prayer they all look