Dear Mr McDonald,
What is your measure of success
in this besmirched world?
Do you keep an inventory
of the acres of Mcflurry cups
laying limp on motorway verges,
crushed by passing cars and trucks,
shunted along pavements by indifferent kids,
do you take note of the uneaten meat
that lurks beneath waste paper,
gathering in fences and shrubberies,
wilting in parks, gardens and alleyways,
littering our once verdant lanes?
Dear Mr McDonald
and all who follow in your wake,
Do you keep records –
records of shame,
or does your corporate heart
soar with infamous pride
at the sight of your name?
©Jane Paterson Basil