jonberger

The waterbug didn’t need to die,
but she asked
and I didn’t want her anxious
and it seemed the most expedient way.

I stepped on it (them? I’m not sure if the dead
or those of insect sort care about gender identity)
and then picked up the remains with a receipt.
The remains went into the compost pile
and the receipt went into recycling.

"All good?" I asked.
"Thanks," she said.
All good.

I went back to what I was doing,
but thoughts lingered with me
enough to consider if my actions were right.

Was the paper still recyclable with bug on it?
To this day, I still wonder.

I fell for her like a broken elevator.
I broke for her like a fallen elevator, too.
I don’t think that I’ll allow myself to break that way again,
I’m telling you.

But I’m lying to myself, like I always do.
You probably can see it, can’t you?
The way I look at you, it may be pretty obvious,
how fast I’m falling. How fast I’m falling.

And I want to keep it secret. I want to keep my feelings secret
but that’s not something I can do.
Everything I feel, everything I want can be seen right on my face,
you can tell it’s true.
And that’s just fine.
I’m no good at being clandestine.

If the spies caught me to get top secret info
and said torture would be used.
I’d say I would hold out, but I’d just beg
to be recused.

Not a bit of torture would prove necessary,
‘cuz I’d break out data instantly without any contrary
argumentation. Information would be theirs for the taking.
It wouldn’t matter how easy I’m breaking. I’m always breaking.

And I want to keep a secret. I want to hide all of the secrets
but that’s not something I can do.
Everything I feel, everything I believe can be seen right in my eyes.
You can see it’s you.
And that’s just fine;
I’ve never been good at clandestine.

I cannot tell a lie.
I ate the cherry pie.
I’m always do or die.
You ask me why ask why
and I’ll provide an answer.
My mother’s sign was cancer – No!
It was Aquarius! What about us?

And I want to keep a secret. I want to hide a secret
but that’s not something I ever could do.
Everything I feel, everything I want can be seen right on my face.
You must know it’s true.
And that’s just fine;
I’ll never be much good at clandestine.
(I don’t like wine.
My real name’s Bergerstein.
The growth is benign.
I’ve an increasing waistline.
I may have crossed the line…)

The ads tell me what to think
until I swallow that first drink
and then I realize what to know
until the eighth drink makes me throw
them all up onto passing cars
once I get thrown from favorite bars
which know me well enough to hide
the posters that make my eyes wide
and send me straight to belief
that sirloin steak is just ground beef
available at fast food joints
for my purchase. Now that’s the point
of advertising, then and there:
to get the sucker, fair and square.
The sucker’s me, before I drink.
The ads tell me what to think.

It’s the final countdown. There’s no more to do.
We’re reaching the end; we’re just about through.
There ain’t more to do. No-way, no-how.
We’re just about done. It’s the final countdown!

One, two, three, four…
Nothing to countdown anymore.
Five six seven eight.
Wait! What happened? Must I translate?
We were all done
and then just went on?
Did I somehow go forward and lose a debate?

Let’s just reverse this and then we can thrive:
Eight, seven, six, five.
Just a few more, and then we’ll be done:
Four, three, two, one.

(Whew.)

Zero.

There were days when there was nothing going on.
Just empty days,
empty of ideas,
absent of real thought.

I’m lucky I’m past them now,
and things are firing again.
There is thought come back to the days
and spirit has returned.

I am lucky to have gone past the fallow period.
Surely there was no effort involved.
Only fortune has occurred
to be on to better days now.

Well, she was about ninety seven
and her name was something Irish like Devon,
when I saw her while trying not to be sedentary.
To think I could have gone right on past her,
when I checked her out at the library.

Well she looked through me
and I hoped that she could see
but her glasses were far from twenty/twenty.
I hoped that she would give me her number
right there at the local library.

Oh, my heart went boom
when I saw the bathroom
had a real long waiting line…
But she was waiting for me when I got back to see
that she was aware I just had to pee.
I hoped that she would remember
that we’d met at the library.

The bowl is receiving liquids
from so many separate sources today.
The rain, the dog and the pitcher
all entering the bowl at different times.
Today, I am that bowl.

We are getting soggy.
You won’t like us when we’re soggy.
You pour us when we’re dry,
you add a little milk,
so you don’t have us at our absolute driest,
but you don’t want us completely drenched, trust me.

There’s a perfect moment to have your cornflakes,
and it’s here, man, so get on it, all right?
Eat up now, before you miss the moment, and –
look don’t just keep talking on the phone, get to the foodstuffs!
We’re part of a balanced breakfast, but that ain’t gonna happen
if you just yack away with whoever that is on the other end…
JUST GET OFF THE PHONE!

Jesus, don’t pick up the phone after you’ve poured the flakes.
What’re you, a moron?
We don’t have time, here, OK?
It’s running out.
Jeez, we’re real soggy now.
We’re getting to the point of no return…
Maybe if you add another layer of flakes on top of what’s we’ve got in the bowl,
you can refresh…
Oh jeez oh jeezohjeezohjeez…
I think we’re over now.
I think you might have to flush us, Gary.
Oh, mother.
I’m sorry…

Now you get off the phone?

No one thinks they are the bad one
but there are outliers to rules.
To this, I’ll be the exception.
For other rules, I’ll break with tools.
To some I may seem truly cruel,
while others think of me as kind.
It’s just that I suffer no fools
while some I meet have half a mind.

Change, they say, comes from within.
This is most true around gastrointestinal distress,
where the change comes from deep within
and then is often expressed without
loudly.

I find the cause of this change from within
is sometime from some issue without,
like chili cheese hot dogs
or bean burritos
of possibly too much Moose Tracks ice cream.
Maybe Indian.
You get the idea, I’m sure.

The point is,
change can have many a cause
but some things can cause many changes.