If you don’t want my advice
then why are you in earshot
when I shout it?
If you have no interest
in my opinions
then why won’t you gag me
to shut me up?
If you feel my opinions
are so ignorantly formed
so ill-advised
so ridiculously under-informed,
then why am I the one
with the eloquent bullhorn
with which to make my bulleted points
so widely distributed?
You have no answers
for my excellent arguments
do you?
You never do, scarecrow.
That’s why the woodsman
always wins.
It’s all right if you don’t want to talk to me again.
It’s perfectly fine if you’re done with me.
If you think you don’t need me in your life,
I’ll find a way to survive.
I’ll find a way to thrive.
I’ll find a way to be perfectly on board with that,
because you’re not exactly
the tiger’s jaw yourself, you know.
If you need us
to keep to our separate corners
or you need some time
to salve your little wounded ego,
I get it. I get it.
Just take your time
figuring out how awful I was
and get back to me
when you’ve got a plan
as to what you need to do
to exact appropriate revenge.
I’ll be waiting
anxious
with bated breath
as to however you’re going to deal with things
going forward.
Just let me know
how it’s going to go
or better yet,
you know,
don’t.
Change the view.
The problems you’re looking at
that seem insurmountable
from your current angle
look like something else again
when you change position.
Telescope out.
Enlarge or rearrange.
A different perspective
makes everything seem incredibly different.
The job you’re killing yourself over today
will seem inconsequential
after you’re fired.
And that test you cheated on?
Irrelevant after you graduate.
Whatever climate change issue
we suffer from today
will surely matter little
to the beetle-conquerors
that shall succeed us
in millennia to come.
Simply re-engage
the way you look at the issues
and decide
if they’re really issues
that need to concern you.
With that meteorite report,
the fact that Stacy stiffed us
on her share of the tip
suddenly seems so small.
Every now and then
I find myself in the presence
of Amos’ cents.
He left some behind
when he left the house.
It is useful
to sometimes pocket some cents
for the occasions
when I want to be ready for a change
(Amos was making bigger changes
than the jar would allow
which is why he abandoned it
or so I assume,
I would ask him
were he here
or if pay phones took pennies),
so I when I am going out
on the town
I will collect for myself
a few extra coins
still amassed by Amos,
many years ago.
I should thank my old friend for the gift, someday,
let him know I appreciate
his accidental largesse.
Surely, at some point in the future,
I’ll have the wherewithal to reach out
and reciprocate
giving Amos two cents of my own.
All the totems of a life well-lived
are consigned into oblivion
after you are
if you have outlived everyone
so clearly it is important
to underlive your friends and family.
Drive fast.
Take chances.
Eat poorly.
Pick fights.
Dance on rooftops
with folks with razorfeet
and are also blind.
This is the way
to ensure your property
goes to good homes
when you pass.
This is the key
to a life well-lived.
It’s not like he’s qualified for the job;
more like he’s suited for it.
He’s got the face
that makes him an appropriate fit
for that sort of an opportunity.
He’s the right kind of person
for the right kind of role
at the right kind of time
to take it on.
It’s a zeitgeist kind of thing.
Some sort of synchronicity,
if you will.
You have to look at the big picture
take it all in
without squinting.
Think of his placement
like an optical illusion of competency
and it all makes more sense.
He will rise to it, surely.
He will achieve everything
that he deserves to.
All he needs is the chance
because he seems capable of the work.
He looks the part.
He will easily plug the hole.
There are moments
that stretch credulity
when you blink your eyes
and rub them
and wipe the glasses of the universe
and wonder if the edges of reality
are doing exactly
what you thought you saw them do.
There are instants
like heat waves
where a shimmer bends light
or an explosion shrivels your eardrum
that apparently only you noticed.
There are times
when axes shift
if only for a tick
and by the tock
everything’s back
to what you thought.
With that in mind
you might need to give me a minute
and go over what just happened.
You’re what?
They’re shutting down lanes
on Bruckner Boulevard
which might be part
of a city-wide initiative
to add islands
and more man-made structures
to get in the way of everything.
The purpose
of the diminished space
for vehicles
may be safety for all living creatures
but I suspect
it’s really to throttle traffic
to limit the number of people
who travel these roads.
I don’t know if the throttle
is specific to cars
while encouraging bikes and trains and feet
but other evidence suggests not.
I don’t know if it’s specific to outer
browner boroughs.
I have no real evidence to support that
either way.
I know that the limited lanes
makes Bruckner Boulevard
harder to negotiate
for cars
for bikes
for feet
probably for birds.
I haven’t asked.
It sucks.
More and more
the Boulevard is broken.
Everybody loves the clown.
Not A clown
in the paint and lipstick
and floppy shoes,
but THE fool.
Everybody wants to see the schmuck get his
which is why everybody wants you
to pick yourself up
after this last mishap.
Just get up on the bike again
and get ready to crash it
even more hilariously than before.
That’s all we can ask of you
and all we can expect.
Just start over
and find a way to start
with the new season
as if nothing were wrong.
That’s the way
we’ll get further jollies out of you.
That’s how we’ll meet our ratings’ goals.
Can you do it?
Are you ready
to fail and fail again?
The birthday boy sings “Heart of Gold”
at his Fortieth
and everyone feels the punch
when he enunciates the chorus’ end:
“…and I’m gettin’ old.”
Neil Young recorded that song
when he was twenty five,
wrote it when he was a mere twenty four.
He weren’t old at all at the time.
Dylan thought,
when “Heart of Gold” came out,
it was one of the best Dylan ripoffs
he had ever heard.
Young thought the song made him
everything he was,
so he spent years
deconstructing that very thing.
It’s a powerful spell,
the “Heart of Gold,”
an incantation that encircles,
that ensorcels,
that inspires,
that made it into the night’s birthday set
helping herald a young man
into his middle ages.
jonberger 