jonberger

All your lawyers are dead. They may have died before I was born,
old lady, so your lawsuit threat doesn’t worry me so much.
Instead of shaking your fist,
you could try talking, you know.
Explain what’s bothering you.
We might be willing to listen.

I don’t mean to be scaring you,
if that’s what’s going on.
I’m sorry if my demeanor came off
as offensive.
Just tell me what you’re looking for
out of this interaction. Maybe I can help.

Oh, no.
That I can’t help you with.
Go back to your suit, crazy lady.
That’s just ridiculous.

The domino on the cement,
lonely,
awaiting pickup
to rejoin her pack,
had little to say
on the gray day,
but I imagine she wanted to topple
all the people that stepped on her
on their way to the train station.

I did what I could to avoid her,
but rather than change my stride
my toe brushed her points.

It made me slip a little,
which I guess is pretty much
what I deserved, anyway.

I’ll try to remember,
If I see her tomorrow,
to apologize.

"You know, it could have been so much worse."It is of little consolation that the car accident
that is costing me thousands of dollars
and keeping me off the road
could have been a worse accident,
costing me more thousands
and keeping me off more road.
That does not provide solace.
It adds fuel to the frustration inferno within.

"This too shall pass."
I know I’ll get over this,
but I need my time in the muck,
in the shame, to be upset and roll over,
let the fires of frustration burn me out
until I am a husk.
Then perhaps the remains of me
can be blown away
and this will pass.

"Are you all right?"
For god’s sake,
can you please just let me wallow!?

The drinks are all gone.
Soon we will have nothing left to consume.
For now, though, left us look through the meat
and eat.

Oh, it looks good.
Oh, it smells good.
Oh…
Oh, dear.

If I go, and I do not readily admit that I must,
then let it be as Spider-Man,
but let us be clear on the terms.
If I am dying, I want there to be no misunderstandings
as to how I am to be marvelously attired
during my last appearance on this plane of existence.

Let this be the testament as to which Spider-Man
shall be featured in this guest spot at my funeral:
Not the Ultimate Spider-Man, first appearing in the early aughts, trying to bring in a new audience with a streamlined story structure. Not Ben Reilly, the clone of Spider-Man, who didn’t really die in the 70s and thought he was the real thing,
only to be a plot machination of the Green Goblin all along (that sleeveless outfit did nothing for him!).
Not Kaine, the other clone, who became the second Scarlet Spider, more bitter than the first, but somehow less crazy
Not Miguel O’Hara, Spider-Man 2099, who hasn’t even happened yet.
Not Gwen Stacy, Spider-Gwen, Spider-Woman, or Ghost-Spider. I think she’s really cool and all, but I don’t think I have the figure for her outfit. Not ‘til I lose a few more pounds.
Not Miles Morales, Spider-Man, though he’s got a hoodie outfit that could really cover my curves,
his storyline doesn’t speak to me the same way that the original does.

And that’s where it stands: dress me up with
the love of the original Peter P:
Ditto’s finest, creepy crawly amazing fantasy.
Webbing out everywhere
Make my eyes white
my hands sticky
and the sense of identity unknown.

Make me Spider-Man for all to see.
That’s how the world should last know me.
This is my last act of will, please.
Those who know me best have so decreed.

The days are getting longer.
Weather’s getting hot.
Aashish’s starting to suspect
he’s something that he’s not;
a rhymer or a jester or a wizard
or a seer.
Pouring over lines like a poet
without peer:
just thinking he can ape the
contoured stylings of a master
as if his new experience was
somehow somewhat vaster.
Though improvements of vocab
are something certainly to shout,
is it of such significance that
he has to spout it
to the weirdos and the waitress and
the walls at this time?
The energy at which he’s
evinced all his unrhymes
seems to some, a bit decidedly
opportunistic.
Forgive me, then if I then sound eristic.

Yesterday I woke up with a bad taste in my mouth,like I’d gobbled a couple of ferrets from one of those less reputable places
down South.
I hoped to find something more to drink
but it had all gone down the bathroom sink.
I wanted hair of the dog that bit
but there was none left in that climate.

And I know I’ve been wrong to just keep going on
with this whole awful song that keeps going along about booze.
About booze…

Yesterday I got up and I swore never again.
I struggled to keep my eyes closed to escape some of the pain.
The day remained quite cruel to me
but I survived, as you can see.
I’m here today to tell the tale
though I still crave the taste of ale

and I know that I will for a very long time
it’ll stay deep in me like a wind in a chime about booze.
About booze…

King Jim speaks drunken phrases
that may be truths
but he won’t remember them in the morning
and who else can verify them?

King Jim is nothing but a jester, anyway,
in a royal disguise.
Shiny clothes, scented scepter,
he’s all image.
You never know what to expect with the king.

My aunt just sent me a notice
of my bid for North Carolina state office.
I had no idea.

“In your other life,” she wrote,
and I read of my many accomplishments
down South.
Apparently, the southern Jon Berger
has been doing good works
through the Foreign Service and for the Marines
for decades. Afterward, he worked for peace and kids
and even volunteers.
He’s an all-around good guy, me.
I never knew.

I never knew about my interest in public office, either,
though I’ve certainly suspected my thirst for power.
I’ve got two kids, high school age,
and a loving wife.
All good to know!

I’m running for the State House, apparently,
in a state I’ve never lived in before
(My grandparents did once.
Maybe that’s the connection).
Vote for me, if you get a chance.

I’d sure like to.

I found your note, and I have to say,
it was pretty rude to put a message
among your underwear
telling me not to snoop there.

I was just checking for rodents
and to see that you had such
an utter lack of faith of me
has developed since last week
– when I last checked for rodents –
is truly disappointing.

I don’t know if our room-mateship can stand this violation.
I’m going to need some time
to get over this
but maybe a massage first
could help me mull it over.
When can I start?