A Walk-on Part in the War

Robert Beveridge

They’ve taken a chainsaw to every
24-pack of extra-large brown eggs
in your supermarket, they’ve hijacked
all the Jeeps in a five-mile radius,
they’ve replaced all the movies
on Pirate Bay with their edited-
for-television versions, they’ve tossed
all your frozen dinners in the sous
vide machine, they’ve manipulated
the weather to make it look just
like it would have otherwise,
they’ve instituted the designated
hitter rule, they’ve spread outrageous
misinformation about vaccinations,
they’ve destabilized the peso,
they’ve hunted the whales to near
extinction, they’ve kept lawyers
from having weekend hours, they’ve
eaten all your cheese, they’ve unionized
the dust bunnies under the bed,
they’ve dug drug tunnels under
your brand new wall, and somehow,
somehow, they’ve managed to avoid
identification by even the most dedicated
investigator of aliens, sasquatch,
chemtrails, pizza shop sex rings.

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). He published his first poem in a non-vanity/non-school publication in November 1988, and it’s been all downhill since. Recent/upcoming appearances in Utriculi, Rat’s Ass Review, and New English Review, among others.