Ten Little Bungalows

Ten little bungalows stood on a hillside,

A tenant got Ellis Acted and then there were nine.

Nine little bungalows on choice real estate,

A developer wanted it and then there were eight.

Eight little bungalows were a slice of heaven,

RSO law was ignored and then there were seven.

Seven little bungalows endangered by politics,

City Hall rubber-stamped it all and then there were six.

Six little bungalows where low-income renters could thrive,

The city's General Plan was ignored and then there were five.

Five little bungalows the renters adored,

The Planning Department ignored them and then there were four.

Four little bungalows shaded by mature trees,

The chainsaws came out and then there were three.

Three little bungalows with incredible views,

Someone wanted more money and then there were two.

Two little bungalows the Planning Department did shun,

All concerns were ignored and then there was one.

One little bungalow left all alone,

But LA hates RSO renters, and now there are none.

(Inspired by the Stires Staircase Bungalows, which are being demolished as I publish this, and watching too many Agatha Christie mysteries. I am aware of the original poem's appalling language - all the more reason to improve upon it.)