Woke to the sound of rolling thunder,
eaves dripping softly outside
the bedroom window, and something else,
strange murmurs from another room –
a chattering television left on,
peddling drugs again;
pretty pills with pretty names,
warm lighting, and sunny actors to sell them.
Then the disclosures; an obligatory list
of potential horrific side effects.
Drugs for everything but no cures.
Drugs for everything but the soul,
numbed instead
by this relentless cheerful dread.
Haunted Avenues 