Rocky Raccoon-Ish Poem by Joe Rosochacki

Now somewhere in the black mountain hills of chicago
There lived a young boy named rocky raccoon…….(The Beatles)


Road Kill was all I wanted to have my tantalizing taste buds taste,
Raccoon, all the raccoons seemed to die waste,
Along Farm Rd.275 North or I-75 or I-94 or Highway 11,
To the gamey diner raccoon is like chicken but more it’s heaven.
Alice’s brother said to me “Didn’t you eat ‘coon before? ”
I replied “They don’t prepare the ‘coon in Hamtramck.”
But in Michigan, downriver from Detroit, they serve muskrat.
Muskrats and raccoons they’re all road kill,
I thought about and stated we eat lobster, shrimp and crab.
Which are the cockroaches and spiders of sea,
So why not, have some road kill,
you may find out that is your cup of tea.
So is the Captain and Tennille going for this delicacy?

(1-21-2008)