jonberger

They’re telling me I’m better off now
that the new one will make me happier
than you ever could
but even if you were messy
and confusing
and a little dirty
I still miss you
and I wish we were still together.

I can’t help but agree with them.
This new girl is beautiful
and accessible in ways you never were.
She’s bright and popular
and everyone wants to be around her
while so many were standoffish with you.
I never understood that.
What didn’t they see
what was so obvious to me?

Whatever it was,
we weren’t to be
and now you’re free.
I’ll try to come back to you
when I can
if only to say hello
even if it hurts
because of what you mean,
since I still miss you
and I wish we were still together.

Your father is here
in his old apartment
which you haven’t seen
in quite some time.
You struggle to remember when he moved out
but it is not coming to you
quite so easily.

He is not walking quite so easily,
tripping around the clutter
in this messy studio.
It is bright in here,
sunlight shining on many dust particles
rattled by his crashes,
as he misses falling again,
aided by your presence.

“I’ve missed you,” he says,
“Your presence makes things easier.”
Just then he picks up the phone
and tries to make a call to his GP
and fails repeatedly
to make the right kind of connection.
You try to help.

The help you try
is appreciated but is not successful
as his phone seems more difficult to process
than you had suspected,

It may work better
a little later on.

You think this whole thing
may go better
a little later on.

A little later on,
you find you are thinking
a great deal
more clearly.

In the war
you may dance
but only as you’ve been instructed
and only for the purposes
your commanders have authorized.

In the war
you may fight.
You may fight for peace.
You may fight for pieces of eight.
You may fight for pieces of eighteen-year-olds.
You may fight for pieces of eighteen-year-old rights.
In the war, you may fight for pieces of eighteen-year-old’s rights to party!

In the war
you may go forward
or retreat or sidestep issues
or – as is so often the case –
ignore them as much as you may wish.
What you cannot do
what you can never do
is nothing
because in every war
you will find that everything is lost
when you simply do nothing.

Yes, I suppose you could ignore doing something
as much as you wish,
thus following exactly what I said before.
Yes, I suppose I have
been hoisted by my own petard.
Yes,
it does feel good.

Mist rises.
Birds call softly.
Nature makes itself known
– but from a distance.
The windows are closed
like doors
and I am insulated from everything here
in my guest room estate.
I am away.
My window allows me to witness the world
and I can see
the world is not ready for me.

Hours later, perhaps,
we can meet again
but this early morning is too much
for our reunion,
I am sure.
But the birds chirp
and the wind calls
and I find myself unable to rest further
and the world will not go away.

No matter how I will it
it is time for me to re-enter a waiting world
that wants me back
for the air
and the avians
and a bleak sun
are all out there anticipating my arrival
and whatever will come next.

Thinking about Jessie,
Michelle’s sister,
who didn’t know me well
but was polite enough when I stopped by
to see my friend.

My friend was Michelle,
who I came to see
because of her sister,
who was Jessie,
who didn’t know me very well
at all.

How could I change that?
I tried to engage in conversations
with all of us
and sometimes they got caught up
in their own private jokes
which were very funny
(I assume)!

Sometimes I caught Jessie in the hallway
and chatted one-on-one.
It never lasted very long.

It never lasted very long,
my time with the two sisters,
and they just passed me by.
Whatever opportunity there might have been
is gone now, I suppose
and I was a fool again.

I woke up in a panic
realizing I hadn’t walked the dog
all evening.

He hadn’t made a yap.
I’d forgotten all about him.
He must have gotten lost
among all my other crap.

Poor baby!
So patient…
He never made his needs known.
He could stay quiet under the worst of circumstances.
Why was I such a bad owner?

All this rushed through my head
in bed
in instants
as I anticipated the mess I would find
because I left my dog
inside too long
before I recalled
I don’t have a dog!

I’d just been dog sitting last week,
and gotten used to the routine.

I settled down again
then woke up in a panic.
Why don’t I have a dog?

"Greg is dead," is what he said
and that’s when it hit home.

When it became a reality.
When I first heard of Greg
and his leaving.
The card read RIP
which doesn’t usually stand for
Roamin’ in Paris
or Regrettably into Prog
or Renting ice (in) Purgatory,
though that’s kinda close to the meaning.

Greg’s gone, is what we heard
and he’s probably been gone for a while.
The card…
the giant card he saw on the street…
abandoned…
awaiting pickup for demolishment…
had likely been kept for a time
until it hurt too much to be held
any longer.

It was a fetish
that finally saw its time as fleeting
and was bid farewell.

That is where he saw the card
and told us of its tale.

We caught the end
of a long story
but that is no reason
not to extend it
not to offer Greg
a further life
in our memory
for as long as we can.

It used to bother me
that all the nobody bands
that I used to love
used to think were the cat’s PJs
used to believe were really going somewhere someday
never ended up going nowhere nohow
and the bands I thought were immaterial,
irrelevant,
that other people thought were significant and superspecial
ended up going the distance
and becoming stars of superlative substance.

How could I be so wrong
so consistently?
It used to bother me
a lot.

Then I realized
I could do the George
and just reverse expectations
and if I thought the nobody band was blah
then they were a surefire hit machine
while if I really believed in them
they’d never make it after all.

Then I thought about it some more
and I stopped caring about such things.
I stopped drinking
and started watching TV
and really turned a corner.

Some of those bands
will come up on TV
and I remember them faintly
as I sip at a soda
and then turn the channel.

I have to be better at my job
or they’re going to fire me.
I think they need to see
that I am invested in the work,
that I take the company seriously.

Of course,
I am not invested in the work.
I do not take the company seriously.
I do not believe in the product
and I do not care
for the way we treat our customers.

We do not speak honestly at work,
of course.

Still
an attitude adjustment
is in order
lest I lose my source of salary
and my maintainer of medications
and my rationale to wake up most mornings.
Structure is a good thing to have,
I reckon,
and the work provides that
in spades
so I have reason to stay with these folks
for the time being.

So I have to be better at my job,
I suppose.

Does anyone know
how to learn
to care?

I can’t say nothing to you
no matter how I try.
I’m stuck without a tongue
that couldn’t catch a fly.
What is it that leaves me here
without a voice at all
when all I wish to do tonight
is cry to you a call?

I’m struggling. I’m suffering.
Can’t you hear me fail?
I’m hoping to get next to you
as a sensitivous male
but you don’t see or smell a thing
– or you ignore it well.
If you’re aware of my intents
I certainly couldn’t tell.

Would that I had words
or will or a bit of wit.
Something that could give a sense
our different parts could fit.
As it is, I’m left a shaking shiv’ring mess
found here in a corner in the worst case of distress.
Left alone, unable to get anywhere next to you,
the only thing on God’s black earth that’s left I want to do.