It is fucking freezing
in this hellish place.
It beggars belief.
The smell of bacon
permeates the stratosphere
while sausage and ham
sail through the air.
This is a Wallace Shawn fantasy:

I feel my tongue moving
can hear my brain shifting gears,
I can sense the vibrations in my throat
as sound escapes.
I know I’m talking.
I am sure the words I am sharing
are right and just
but I am unable
to get you to listen.

you may be listening full well
paying attention to each utterance emitted.
You may not be ignoring me
but you haven’t taken my position.
I cannot change your mind.

How has this happened?
What now occurs
where I cannot use my considerable gifts
to effect change?
What is lacking
in my communication skills
that I cannot sway you
and make you accept
what is so patently true?

What must I do
to succeed in turning you to my side?
How is it at all possible
that I haven’t made you agree with me
and gotten you to go in with me
on those discounted disco fries?

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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