But… they’re sketches, aren’t they?
Not paintings.
Not works of art.
You’re producing half-thoughts,
random concepts at off-moments, right?
You’re not not really investing
in what you’re doing.
These little things are good
for what they are
and you deserve some kind of credit
for what you’ve produced
but when you make something real
like a movie
or a multimedia platform,
then you’ll be a man
or an artist
or something like it.
I remember how black it was
how dark and frightening it was
on those days when you kept yourself distant.
I remember how deprived I was
when I began to starve myself
in your absence.
I lost a leg’s worth of weight
when you walked away.
I just couldn’t find an appetite
for much of anything
when you were gone
until your memories faded enough
for me to forget what it was
that I once had.
It felt so narrow
in those tunneled days
when you disappeared
and I could see nothing but more darkness.
I lost so much
when I lost you.
It got better eventually
– obviously. It always does.
But I couldn’t see it
then.
I’ll have to remember
that.
It is indeed possible
just as you said.
In this infinite universe
with all of its permutations and considerations,
there is absolutely the distinct calculation that
if I beg and pray
and chant and squint at just the right angle,
I can effect the improved actuality that
it will all work out all right.
I can effect change,
it is true.
It is conceivable.
It is possible.
I can fix the mistakes of my youth
and become something new
and unimaginable.
I can transform into what has never been seen before
and save the orphans
and prevent forest fires.
I can do it.
It’s possible.
Anything’s possible, after all,
in an infinite universe,
among all its permutations.
Good could win out
and I could be involved.
I’ll just hold my breath for that, then,
shall I?
Yeah, it’s probably for the best
that I don’t see you for a while.
Too much sediment
in my sentiment
if that makes any sense
– and it probably doesn’t.
I’m not making much sense these days.
My senses have been working overtime
counting away from ecstasy
step by step
as if in a duel
walking away from what threatens to slay.
I am endangered by thoughts
and emotions engendered
by attendance in your presence
which is why I think the best choice
is Option E:
None of The Above
in which I keep my distance
and my counsel
and wish you well
and maybe you wonder
just a little
where I am
and how I fare
but probably not
because after all
that would have been too much to hope for.
Would you look at this motherfucking day:
the rats are nibbling
the ants are scurrying
the trash is just blowing all about.
The corners are filled with smokers once again
and do I spy the flash of cash
exchanging hands over there?
I do believe I do.
The city blooms
crawling through cracks
stretching into new forms
with what little warmth it can find.
The city breaks through icy exteriors
and increases opportunities
to create communities.
Nature abhors a vacuum
and we are all swept away
with enthusiasm
by just a little bit of sun.
Shit,
is there a hustler giving away free hand jobs
as an introductory offer?
Excuse me for just a minute.
I ache in your absence
which is really fucking stupid,
if you ask me
– which you didn’t –
because you ask after me
only when convenient
in my presence
when in sight
when you think of it
while I ask after you
always.
Not that I say it to you
‘cuz I don’t play like that.
That’s not appropriate.
It ain’t sophisticated.
It’s not how I roll.
I ache in your presence
but I’d never advise you of that fact
or speak to you at all
because,
you know,
what am I:
an adult?
I wish you were here
I wish we could talk.
I wish I had balls.
He had suggested
I watch this amazing docu-series
about the history of civilization
named History of Civilization or something like that
on the streaming service of choice
but I told him
that I preferred
to get physical media
from the library
because I liked the limitations
of having to go to the location
and look for the item
and take it out
and bring it home
and put it on
before consuming it.
I said to him
that there is too much ease
in my world
and too many pleasures available
and without limitations
I would simply sit
in my safe American home
watching thing after thing
after thing after thing
until my eyes and ears
and nose and butt
bled and seeped
and sighed and cried
and wept and warped
until finally imploding
into shapes unimagined.
He nodded slowly
at my sage words
and considered cancelling his streaming service
and I walked away
allegedly to go to my library
but really
to ask my mother
if she’d let me have full rights
to her streaming service
again.
So we’ll get some more seeds.
We’ll find another place to plant.
We’ll break the frozen ground
and dig a hole
and make a fresh start
with a new crop
somewhere else
somewhere fresh
somewhere new.
It can happen.
It’s possible.
It happens a million times
for a million farmers
on a million planets
in a million galaxies
in a million realities
across the multverse
known and unknown
so why not here?
Why not now?
Why not today?
We’ll get some seeds.
We’ll start over.
Maybe this time zucchini.
When I look back on all the poems I wrote about you
– some of them even good –
I have to say
and I cannot repeat this enough
I am very very
very very very
very very very very
VERY sorry
that I spent so much time
circling your orbit
wasting your time
with my obvious desperate attention.
As I read this tome of text I devoted
to your eyes
your thighs
and everything in-between
(and also toes and nose.
I was nothing if not a completest)
I see how sad I was
in such a recent past,
so deliberately dedicated
to a cause that couldn’t last.
Thank you for being so patient with me.
You didn’t have to be so nice.
I clearly loved you anyway
but I appreciate the kindness you expressed
to a kid
who didn’t know what to do
with himself
or with you
when I was so young
all the way back
a month or two.
Everything I say is impertinent.
How dare I?
What right do I have
to your time
or attention?
Who am I
to impose so self-righteously
with such impetuous ego?
The balls on me!
The temerity.
I don’t deserve what I ask,
I know that.
I never have.
I’m not worthy of your mention
or anything more
that’s been clear
well before the start
and I’m glad of every instant
that you ignore that fact
so thank you for this opportunity
here with you
today
and every day like it
and, while I have your ear here,
if your stiletto could perhaps be moved
from the bridge of my foot just a smidge,
that would be –
No?
All right then.
jonberger 