jonberger

Thank you, dear,for reminding me,
when I commented on the peaches on the table,
that it was you who’d stained the table
– sorry, counter, I misspoke. Counter.
You selected the material
you bought the material
you cleared me out of the kitchen
and smelled up the kitchen with the spray-staining apparatus,
so you’re right:

far be it from me to insensitively complain when I,
who thoughtlessly exploded a peach upon your counter
have to spend a moment or two cleaning it up
after you went to such effort
to make our home so fine and beauteous…
it is appalling what I’ve done, really.
Simply appalling.

Really, beloved, you must forgive me.

Eventually.

The peaches you left in the bowl
on the counter
were so ripe
– overripe –
that the juice burst from my mouth
to my hand
to my shirt
to the floor
to the counter
– which had so recently been stained
at not too small an effort.

The peach
– what I had of it –
was quite delicious.
The cleanup
was exert-uous.

It was very thoughtful
of you
to leave the peaches
for me
in just such a way.

Very thoughtful
indeed.

She said my last human touch was two months ago.
She swallowed the drink and looked at me
with my pulse
her only accompaniment.

What about you? she asked
but I had no answer.
I couldn’t think back that far
but I couldn’t think of much
but her touch
and when it had been experienced
and by who
and how
and where and why
and

why are you so quiet? she laughed
while I gulped
and she drank
and we continued
our terse little absence of exchange
over computer screens
for a little longer

before we retired to separate corners
when she did whatever
she was going to do
and I did what I
most certainly did.

My uncle escaped Nazi-occupied Austria
alone
trekked to Zurich
then London
and lost his parents.

He lasted through many careers
and many years
and through the rest of his family
and generation.
He saw them all through

and now
he is buried alone
unknown
his wife in another unhealthy bed
awaiting her fate.

Even in this testimony
he hasn’t a name.
Just another anonymous
ending
as we all
await our fates.

Look at all those cocks!
There are far too many cocks.
I can’t even believe it.
Had I known this convention would be so cockily complete,
I don’t know I would have committed to coming so quickly.
Can you imagine having so many cocks?
I can’t even begin to count them!
So many cocks…
Where did they come from?

Penises to the left, to the right.
To the South, to the North by North West…
Oh my lord!
I… I am inundated.
I am absolutely agog at the attachments in attendance.
It is overwhelming.
My senses are inflamed.
I may flutter and faint.
I can’t –
No, I am sorry
This will not do.
I can’t have this.
This is too many cocks before me!
Please someone take me away from this overwhelming wealth of cocks immediately – or earlier!

Oh, this is better.
Now, this is the exact right number of cocks.
I am extremely pleased.
Thank you.
Ahh.

I dreamt the rose withered
which came as no surprise;
the bird predicted it
the book before him
and anyone could see it coming
in the current kind of temperature.

But still I was saddened
which came as no surprise;
I had loved the rose
though it had always been weathered
and worked upon in my time
I recognized its beauty
even among its flaws.

In my dream
I saw no rose
simply heard of its passing
for who ever heard of a funeral for a flower?
But we ought to bury the things we love.
What we treasure in life
should see some sense of completio

I know somehow, that you still care
but your emotions are so much to bear
one day you’re kind, the next you just wear
me down.
No… stop it, please.I can’t stand the way that you tease.
It puts me at the reverse of ease.
…Keep distance.

I don’t want to hold your hand.

What will make you understand
how you cannot countermand
all our loving… every day?
Yes, of course, I love you – don’t!
You’ll lose this boy with one more note
I know you can, but if you won’t
respect what I have to say…
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

We all… constantly change.
I feel you and your vital range
of ways you behave then arrange
…your moods.
I get the same way, too.
And right now, I can’t be with you.
I need space, for a decade or two.
…Let me be.

You’ve already let me down.
So wear black ’til I come around.
I’ll call your name and we can drown
in an an inner light.
Until that time accept my plea
give the space that I so need.
Like I needed you, please me
and let me go away.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Things have been distant
between this awful sickness and me
and me and you
and me and crises.
I have walls
and walls and walls
that protect me
from things
but this awful sickness
has no use for walls
and neither does our bond
my chinese brother
from beyond that wall.
I’m so sorry you’re gone
and I barely got to say
how much I loved you
in my little little way.
This awful sickness
takes so many things away
but at least among them
are some obsolete
unnecessary walls.

She said it was fine.
She said you thought I’d be holding a grudge still
after all this time?
She laughed at that.
Really?

She said it hurt for a minute.
Really.
You hurt me, I admit,
and I held a grudge there
for a day or two
but, they say,
she said
the best was to get over someone
is to get over someone
which is a practice
that I eventually mastered.

You bothered me,
she said,
once,
but you don’t have to concern yourself with it
anymore.
You no longer matter to me.

Has this been in your mind all this time?
She asked.
I’m so sorry
if it’s been troubling you.
Now that’s a fine thing
and make no mistake.