Joseph Buehler
                                             It May All Get Sorted Out By Someone
The Society Of Irish Shoplifters sent their letter of resignation to the
Organized Bean Counters of South Central America who forwarded
it to The Unorganized Rail Splitters of South Eureka, Ohio who didn’t
know what to do with it so they fed it to their dog.
Then The Illegal Society For The Preservation Of Vast Resources
heard about the aforesaid letter and sent an angry email to The Com-
pletely Impotent And Frustrated House Roofers of Peoria, New Jersey
who promptly went out and got drunk on some poisoned German wine
and either expired on the spot or else spent some anxious days and nights
in the hospital.
Fortunately, after all of these things occurred, The Systematic And Cere-
monial Ditch Diggers of Plainville, South Dakota began a local petition
drive to exterminate all of the rats in Peoria, New Jersey. Such a proposal
incensed the mayor and town council of the aforesaid municipality to such
an extent that they started their own petition drive and sent an angry letter
by mistake to The Far Northern Mining And Tree Restoration Corporation
of East Pasadena, New Hampshire who were so perplexed by the strange
missive that they finally decided that the only thing to do with it was to slap
some clam sauce on it and feed it to their dog.
                                             Hamlet At McDonald’s
Do you have any roast beef sandwiches?
No, I guess this is the wrong place for that,
is it not? O.k., a Big Mac, no lettuce, extra
tomatoes, no onions and put that special sauce
upon it. No, wait a minute, make that two
quarter pounders with extra cheese—what do
you mean, no extra cheese? Don’t you see this
sheathed sword by my side? All right then, maybe
you’re right, forget the extra cheese; in fact, forget
all the cheese; give me a fish sandwich without any
cheese and a strawberry milk shake. What?—French
fries?—did I say anything about French fries? Do you
trust the French? Well, I do not. Anyway, French fries
are too fattening. This too too solid flesh, you know? Oh,
you don’t know. Well, forget it. O.k., then, just a fish
sandwich and a strawberry—no, make that a chocolate
shake. Wait a minute, instead of a milk shake, how about
a nice hot fudge sundae with whipped cream and nuts on
top and a couple of your small hot apple pies? No, wait
a minute, apples don’t always agree with me. All right then,
just a fish sandwich without cheese and a vanilla shake. Wait
a minute—
Joseph Buehler has had one hundred poems accepted by the middle of September 2019 including three pending at ArLiJo. He has recently published two poems in Squawk Back magazine.
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                                             It May All Get Sorted Out By Someone
The Society Of Irish Shoplifters sent their letter of resignation to the
Organized Bean Counters of South Central America who forwarded
it to The Unorganized Rail Splitters of South Eureka, Ohio who didn’t
know what to do with it so they fed it to their dog.
Then The Illegal Society For The Preservation Of Vast Resources
heard about the aforesaid letter and sent an angry email to The Com-
pletely Impotent And Frustrated House Roofers of Peoria, New Jersey
who promptly went out and got drunk on some poisoned German wine
and either expired on the spot or else spent some anxious days and nights
in the hospital.
Fortunately, after all of these things occurred, The Systematic And Cere-
monial Ditch Diggers of Plainville, South Dakota began a local petition
drive to exterminate all of the rats in Peoria, New Jersey. Such a proposal
incensed the mayor and town council of the aforesaid municipality to such
an extent that they started their own petition drive and sent an angry letter
by mistake to The Far Northern Mining And Tree Restoration Corporation
of East Pasadena, New Hampshire who were so perplexed by the strange
missive that they finally decided that the only thing to do with it was to slap
some clam sauce on it and feed it to their dog.
                                             Hamlet At McDonald’s
Do you have any roast beef sandwiches?
No, I guess this is the wrong place for that,
is it not? O.k., a Big Mac, no lettuce, extra
tomatoes, no onions and put that special sauce
upon it. No, wait a minute, make that two
quarter pounders with extra cheese—what do
you mean, no extra cheese? Don’t you see this
sheathed sword by my side? All right then, maybe
you’re right, forget the extra cheese; in fact, forget
all the cheese; give me a fish sandwich without any
cheese and a strawberry milk shake. What?—French
fries?—did I say anything about French fries? Do you
trust the French? Well, I do not. Anyway, French fries
are too fattening. This too too solid flesh, you know? Oh,
you don’t know. Well, forget it. O.k., then, just a fish
sandwich and a strawberry—no, make that a chocolate
shake. Wait a minute, instead of a milk shake, how about
a nice hot fudge sundae with whipped cream and nuts on
top and a couple of your small hot apple pies? No, wait
a minute, apples don’t always agree with me. All right then,
just a fish sandwich without cheese and a vanilla shake. Wait
a minute—
Joseph Buehler has had one hundred poems accepted by the middle of September 2019 including three pending at ArLiJo. He has recently published two poems in Squawk Back magazine.