The Death Of The Postcard
Here is a picture of where we are staying.
Here's the resort where they're all highly-sexed.
The adults are drinking. The children are playing.
And here is – forget it, I'll send you a text.
This is the church, yes, and this is the steeple.
These are the views, photographically naff.
Here are the costumes not worn by the people.
Hang on. I'm just off to the internet caff.
Here is an image so perfectly pretty
It'll make you amazed. They haven't put fog in,
And you can't smell the grit in the capital city,
But – hang on a bit, and I'll drop down and log-in.
Here are some shots of a volcanic crater.
Here's a wild animal (male, maybe female).
Never saw either. Sent this on the way to
The airport – forget that – I'll send you an email.
How are you all, then? We hope you are well.
We've written in caps. so the message is clear,
Not to fill up the space. It's a lovely hotel.
Wish you were – well, you are, virtually – here.
