jonberger

Thinking on it
it’s amazing that this hasn’t happened earlier,
with a toppling organization
shedding staff
and a humbled employee
constantly on the razor’s edge of judgement
always being reviewed,
always being questioned.

It’s a wonder you’ve lasted
as long as you have.

You should be congratulated
on your reign of errors
lasting this long
and be glad
that you needn’t have to worry
about the target on your back anymore.

You can sleep at night
and rest easy
that perhaps the company’s cash flow
can at last go positive.

I was not clear on what the company did
when I got the interview
which might have been the point of their vague name.

I got the job
and soon learned
their name hid their insidious designs.
I worked for an evil company in the telecom sector.

The money was the best I’d made, though,
so I worked hard
and was proud of how I did.

I was not proud of the company.
They probably weren’t either
and changed their name.

Their profits rose.
The phone companies tried to rein them in
but not hard
because everyone profited from their actions.

I did well there.
I rose.
I talked shit.
I got canned.

I stopped caring
about the work I did
and started to keep my head down
just to do my job.
I stopped speaking ill of my employer
whatever they did.
I still get fired.

There’s probably a lesson there:
Evil’s gonna evil to the world
whatever you do about it.
Evil’s gonna evil to you, too.

The hours between notification
that there will be layoffs
and word about the security
of your own position
are not productive hours.

Those are hours
where you wonder
about life
justice
futility
friendship
time
peace
and vengeance.

Other things may flit through as well
but work is probably not high
among the priorities.

It is a wonder
that the office makes such announcements
at all.

There was a time
when I would go questing
out on the streets of the City
for a lobster tail
and the world would have no knowledge
of what I sought.

Those were frustrating days.

On a bicycle adventure
aimlessly riding around Staten Island,
I found Bruno’s Bakery
and I bought a flakey cream-filled construction
with powdered sugar that stuck
to my sweaty shirt as the cream and crust
would enter me as quickly as I could swallow.

It was a lobster tail
and I was in love.
I needed more of this thing
but I couldn’t bike out to the Island
on the regular
so I looked for other bakeries
that could serve me the stuff that I craved.

I was not easily satisfied.

No one knew what I was talking about
when I named the delicacy.
“Lobster tail? This is a bakery!”
There was no other name for the thing.
It looks a little like the triangular sfogliatelle
which you can find at most Italian bakeries
but the lobster tail doesn’t appear all the time
– even at the Italian spots.

I kept looking.
I kept failing.
It turns out the tail wasn’t too popular,
so the places that did make it
made it on weekends alone when more people would buy.

I could find it at special locations
like Veniero’s and a couple of smaller places
in Little Italy.
It took a lot to get me the goods.
My sweet spot could eventually be found
but it still took some work
for me to get my fill.

Bagels are a lot to eat.
I have discovered
as wisdom in my older years,
the delicacy of croissants and lox.

I don’t care for cream cheese.
There are many white creamy substances that freak me out.
Cottage cheese, sour cream, cream cheese,
a lot of cheeses in general – white or not,
but that’s a tad off-topic –
My lox-eating is all about the fish and the bread.
The lighter bread is a better bread
and it works more easily when not toasted.

I think more people should try it
and worm their way into the bagel monopoly.
It’s time the French have their time
in the salted salmon sun!

It’s… it’s good.

The first time I ordered salad as a meal
was in DC.
I was eating with a vegetarian
so I figured, “When in Rome.”

It was at a poetry open mic,
and my vegetarian friend didn’t opt
to jump on the stage
so full reciprocity wasn’t to be had
but the salad was good.
It wasn’t an experience to be much repeated.

The second time
I ordered salad as a meal
I was eating at a salad place
so my choices were limited
but I was able to to get meat on it
so the vegan who I was trying to impress was,
to put it cooly, not.

Someday, I hope to tell you
about the third salad
I ever ordered as a meal.

Operators, stand by.


In a lovely little cafe in Brooklyn
I discovered a delicacy.
It was a light creamy mousse
I had never experienced, flavored of pistachio.
It was pricey, but well worth it.
That year, I order a mess of it for my birthday
and promptly failed to share it with anyone else.

That was all right, though. More for me!
Pistachio Mousse for me for days!

Realizing this was an expensive habit to maintain,
my mother looked into trying to home-make it
and figured out that she could replicate the recipe
basically, with big brand pudding.

I felt a little cheated,
but when I realized I could get it on demand
for a dollar a pop,
I felt like a cheater, too.

Give me that mousse, momma!

If there’s a moral here,
I guess it’s learn how to cook,
but I haven’t taken to that moral yet,
so…uh, yeah.

Some words roll off your tongue
and have psychic power
even if their meaning
means nothing to you.

I didn’t know what the fruit kumquat was
other than being in the citrus family,
but I loved its sound, and would say it
with frequency and abandon
for years.

I found the look and consistency of guacamole
distasteful. I’m still not a big fan.
But when wrestling in grade school,
I would shout “Guacamole power”
before leaping onto my enemies and friends alike.
I’d usually get my ass kicked,
but I felt empowered during the beatings.

Sometimes, people’s names work the same way.
Debbie Gibson was a name bandied about
not because I loved her music
but because of the vowels and consonants.

I just had to again look up who Seymour Hersch was
but his name is a constant source of inspiration to me,
because it sounds so very powerful.

Names hold influence. Just imagine, if you will,
if Seymour Hersch were to be making guacamole
while listening to Debbie Gibson and sucking on
a kumquat?

I shudder to think.


It was visiting BK
that got me started with my new life.
It was that simple thing
from which all else grew
the small stone that ripples
outward evermore.

My job, my apartment, my art.
my hair, all tie to that visit to BK
and a desire to taste something new.

There are always moments like this.
Thank you for being mine, BK.
I hope to enjoy you again
sometime soon.

Some days are all about the success.
Some days are sort of not.

It’s over half over, and I’m pretty sure I can call this one.

There are times when you can taste the ambrosia of victory
in every action you take
and then there are other days.
There certainly are other days.
This day will be recorded as a day going down in history, surely.

No one will ever forget this day.

I don’t know why I need to keep going on and on
about the possibilities and potential
one can swallow
– both good and bad –
within a single sunspan.
It seems obvious how much can happen
with a simple coinflip.
Like how could my day change any further?
Heads or tails?

See! I win again.