Three Texts

Peter Berghoef

Dear Friend

on the table by the door you will find

a list of definitive statements

I would like to hear you make

this is not asking too much

after the table collapsed

at the wedding reception

you had all the knives hidden

nobody knew how to cut the cake

and then after the vodka fountain

you trotted out your new pony

and rode around the banquet hall

like it was the Kentucky derby

I hate to have to ask you like this but really

between all the bridesmaids and their mothers

did you really have to show the children?

Letter to the Editor

this is the fakest marching band I've ever seen

watch that robot stomp without any obvious error

I have never been more disgusted in my life

I have paid good money to see this done

with newer models that wore the proper outfits

the federal army is pissing on my son's chances

of serving with honor and making me proud

this is by far the most shameful parade

this town has ever seen

All Hell Breaks Loose

organize your salad makings

with this slender new device

the pleasure it will visit upon you

defies all existing forms of measurement

be a big kid and buy each alarming attachment

all the different ways to vibrate

I keep mine set on seven

unless I've had an especially rough day

in which case we affix “the tumbler”

Peter Berghoef lives in a barn in Michigan. He wrote a chapbook you can buy at while supplies last.