jonberger

I know I’ve been annoying
with my constant pleas for attention
but believe me
– really. Believe me –
every single moment
I have not reached out to you
is some kind of accomplishment
on my part
a heroic act
like keeping sand
from trailing down the hourglass.

I inexorably seek to call you
to make contact
any and every way available

but I know it’s too much.
I know I’m too much.
I’ve realized how I’ve exhausted patience
tolerance and public decency.
I see what’s happened
and the nuisance I am
and will go on to be.

I wish my control were greater.
I wish my needs were slighter.
I wish I was stronger.
I wish you wanted more of me
but the variables are what they are
and I’ll keep trying restraint
even as I am trying

and such a tremendous strain.

In the Spring
in the park
in the sun
in the grass
it was good
to get the chance
to see you again
if only for a little while.

It was a taste
however small
of something
I used to have,
something I missed
and something
very much worth regaining
and though you disappeared again
far too quickly
an Indian Summer all out of season
I am so very appreciative
I was there
for that day
on the grass
with the sun
at the park
during Spring.

In the bars
I sit down
and I wait to be asked
what I want.
If no one asks me
what I want
I will contentedly sit
in the bar, the pub,
the saloon or tavern
and soak in the ambiance
for free
for as long as I may wish.
I will never ask for service.

If the staff
bartender, waitress,
bar back or lickspittle
cannot be bothered to request
how to take my money,
I will not help them in that pursuit.
I can wait them out.
I don’t need the drink that badly.

It may be
that I prefer the atmosphere
by far
to the alcohol
in these establishments.
It may be
that I am too cheap
to be believed.
It may be
I am even more anal
than that.
It may be all of the above.

Any way you slice it
I spend much more time in bars
than I ever do money.

Some staff never serves me.

That dream
the one where you broke up with Bob,
it happened again.
You came to me after,
like always,
and told me how you needed comfort,
you needed me
if only for a little while,
and you were beautiful,
more beautiful
than you are in real life,
which means, well,
wow.

So you offered me the keys to the queendom,
the affection I had always hoped for
if only for a little while,
because you were lonely, desolated,
Bobless,
and you needed someone
to help you through the first few nights.
I knew I would be a just a tool
but it was like a dream
to get what I wanted most.

But I said “No” this time,
because it wasn’t really what I wanted most
but maybe only the best I could hope for
and dream me wasn’t having it.
He said he didn’t want to just fill in for you.
that if he
– if I –
was going to love you
it was going to be for real.
For good.
And before you responded
the dream ended.

I don’t know what I ate last night
to make me like that
but I’m glad it was just a dream
because let me be clear:
in reality,
if you want me
for a single minute
I am here to comfort you
to help you
to do whatever you need
whatever my mother, kids
or wife or the state
has to say about it.

What the hell are dreams anyway?
Oh, and by the way:
Bob’s an idiot.
Oh.
That was in the dream?
Never mind.

I warned you:
of all the things
you can’t say you weren’t given due notice.
I told you I was a cunt right up front
a case of deformed adolescence
and unreformed delinquency.
I said I stole feelings
and ate them
and shat them out
in ridiculous colors
to grow into hideous
previously unimagined flora.

I did everything I could
not to sell you a bill of goods
to avoid this very look on your face
of shock and disappointment
and – is that a tear?
Of course it’s a tear!
I told you this would end in tears.
Such a relief that they aren’t mine
this time!

I told you this would end horribly.
I warned you.
Maybe next time
you’ll listen.
Next time
when we tumble into each other
you’ll believe me.

It’s OK if you want to come over.
There’s room at my place.
I’ve been doing some cleaning
making the place presentable
should you ever want to make the trip.
If tonight’s the night, I just need a last few minutes to fully get it going – just to ensure the dungeon is fully stocked.

I’m kidding. I’m just nervous.
I haven’t invited anyone over in
a while.
It’s been a long lonely lonely lonely
lonely time.
If you’re sure
I’d love to have you over
– anytime.
It doesn’t have to be tonight
but I’m ready
whenever you want.

Or soon
after I do
a last few things.

There was a place
where they wrote songs.
They wrote them short.
They wrote them long.
They wrote them long.
They wrote them short.
They did it all
with boss support.

They wrote the songs
on Music Row
and all day long
the line they’d tow.
Yes, they’d work hard
to earn their pay
just writing hit
songs every day.

Some tunes were bad.
Some tunes were great.
The best you love;
the worst you hate.
The best would fly
on angel’s wing
and most were written
by a King.

At writing songs,
the King was best.
Put to a test?
She beat the rest.
Compared to she,
others felt hollow.
Where she would lead,
the rest must follow.

The story ends
as you’d assume
with a photo
shot in a room
of just the King
there with her cat
cov’ring a disk
beating all records flat.

On Music Row
the writers there
were better than
else anywhere.
And that’s why now
everyone knows
you write, you get respect
wherever you go!

The lesson you learn is
if you let yourself be vulnerable
others will will see your weakness
and offer to help
and save you from the encroaching cold
and leave you in a better position
than you would have otherwise found yourself.

The lesson of today
is that you can find what you need
if you leave yourself open
available so that the universe can provide
what you truly want.
If you need succor, then shiver before the compassionate.
If you need candy, then drool in front of the Lindt storefront.
If you need land, then move next to those
who do not believe
in the ownership of personal property.

If you need food in winter,
live next to suckers who’ll feed you
before you execute the plan
to exterminate.
That’s the lesson of today.
Enjoy turkey.

Your old, old
old old friend is in town
and you haven’t seen her
in a long, long
long long time
but there’s this new white peach soda
that’s available tonight at this club you go to
and they’ve got a limited supply
and if you don’t get down there before midnight
you might miss your chance
to enjoy the first taste
of that delicious fruity drink.

You don’t think your
real old friend
from way back when
would really appreciate the nuances
of carbonated beverages;
it’s one of the many ways
you have simply grown apart
so you make your excuses
give her the slip
and go out to the place
(called, appropriately enough,
Club Soda),
and get your lips around a sip
of the white peach soda
and it is good.

You have grown up
and so has your old friend
who is also at the club
with her own soft drink:
a blood orange smoothie.

Truly, you two have changed.

The mentor sits at the feet of the student impatiently
waiting for the presentation to begin.
He attempts to display placidity
but the student is slow, stupid,
and wasting everybody’s time
with today’s display of hubris.
The mentor will provide sage advice
at the session’s end
and their endless lessons
will continue tomorrow.

But the presentation is a success.
Everyone is amazed
at the student’s prowess
and skill
and congratulates her on all that she has accomplished.
They congratulate the teacher, too,
for having molded the mentee so well
into such an excellent acolyte.

The master praises his charge,
accepts all accolades
and quietly collects all the critiques
he has prepared.
He will share them, perhaps,
another day,
when there are far fewer witnesses.