The Road-Kill Road Show

Like reeking stubs of smoked cigars,
The residue of squandered days
Was designated toxic waste
Till strident chords from loud guitars
Confirmed that there were other ways
Of looking at the world.  In haste

They’d judged adversely, scorning praise
Of self lest their egregious taste
Be known.  But now no blemish mars
The cheek, and no misgiving stays
The trembling hand, of those who’ve faced
Themselves in mirrors at the bars

They frequent.  Conscience is erased
When drunkards drive away in cars
Through rainy weather, fog or haze
With plates they hope will not be traced
If accidents leave livid scars
On rats unfit to thread the maze.





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C.B. Anderson was the longtime gardener for the PBS television series, The Victory Garden. Over the past eight years, hundreds of his poems have appeared in scores of print and electronic journals out of North America, Great Britain, Ireland, Australia and India. He is inordinately fond of single malt Scotch whisky.