Road Kill – It’s What’s For Dinner

It’s on the table.
No warning label.
Is it a bear?
It’s done real rare.
With eyes that stare,
I saw it blink.
Was that a wink?
I want to hide
Beneath the sink.
Is it meat?
It’s still got feet.
It was, I think
Scraped off the street!

Please pass the taters and the beans
Oh you know how I love my greens!
And don’t we have some green sardines?
(I must delay by any means.)

But it’s too late.
It’s on my plate.
No more debate.
Mom sealed my fate.
It’s got a green
And oily sheen
And in between
Is that a spleen?

Dribbly on the outside…
Crunchy on the inside…
It looks like goo,
Smells like the loo.
Now what am I
Supposed to do?

“Eat it!”

Deep breath…

Here’s my advice to those who eat
Their Mom and Dad’s “Mystery Meat”:

If you feast
On wildebeest
Be sure to check
That it’s deceased.
Fox a-la-mode
With squished up toad
Peeled off the road
Is quite a load…

With half a pound
Of old bloodhound
That’s been well ground
And lightly browned,
Heaped in a mound.
Don’t make a sound;
Just wolf it down!

…because dessert
Is coming ‘round.

Alan ParrWritten by Alan Parr.
Illustrated by Brad Sneed.

This illustrated poem was created for Project OpenBook, an experiment in doing good.

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