jonberger

We all talked about it.
The secret substance
the magic potion
the grail that got girls
to go with guys like us.
Cosby even spoke about it
on an album from before our time:
Spanish Fly would make the ladies
hot and bothered
and better ready for the boys.

We didn’t really know
what "hot and bothered"
might mean,
but we knew
in our beating
barely pubescent brains
that it was a state
we desperately needed
and could not achieve
on our own.

We spoke of what we’d do:
get the Fly
at some corner store
then sneak it
into Michelle’s drink
or invite Karina over for a study session
then "accidentally" spill it on her shirt.
We weren’t altogether sure of the mechanism
but we knew that the results
were very desirable

but we never found the stores
that carried this codeword
to let us enter paradise
or even found out what paradise might look like.

We spoke of it.
We wanted it.
We never got anywhere near it,
a flitting, buzzing thing
always in the corner of the eye,
always out of reach.

God, Bree, I am so sorry.
I just feel awful
about how it went down.
I misunderstood everything
from the get-go
didn’t I?

I thought we were flirting.
I thought we were dancing around something.
I thought you were interested.
I really thought you were interested.
I thought there was reciprocation
or might be
or could be
if you were given enough incentive.

I never meant to make you uncomfortable.
I never meant for you to feel unsafe.
I never wanted you
to think you couldn’t be honest with me
or direct.
I never imagined
you’d be scared to talk to me
about the truth.

I’m sorry, Bree.
I am so goddamned sorry
like you wouldn’t believe
and rest assured
I won’t be bothering you again
acting like a creep in your presence
giving you the impression of anything untoward.
In a minute
I’ll be gone.

…was that a wink?

She broke up with her freshman boyfriend
right around when I broke up
with my senior girlfriend
and we were just sitting in my double dorm room bed
when I suggested
that it might be a smart idea
if we were to comfort each other
in that autumn of our discontent.

I offered her a massage
or one of the other patented moves
of the sensitive new age guy
and stroked her
and offered what positivity I could
in the face of mutual depression.

She didn’t say “no.”
She didn’t say anything, really,
just lay, awkwardly,
as I provided what affection
I knew she was missing.
My attention lacked reciprocation
which I didn’t much appreciate
so I relocated from my bed to the chair
and she relocated straight out of my hall
pretty much immediately.

She was never in my room after that
and I never again got to offer her
any of the comfort
I thought we had both deserved.

After she decided to transfer
I drove up
in the snow
through several states
in the hopes
of spending time
with this little girl
I sort of liked.

She let me stay with her
in the flake-ridden north
and we stayed up for hours
wrestling
as she gently,
firmly
repositioned my hands
time and again
softly saying “No,”
a hint I somehow failed to take.

I’m not sure she understood:
I liked her so much
and had travelled so far
and hadn’t seen her in so long
but nevertheless
she persisted.
She resisted
and I was reminded
for the umpteenth time
that you can’t make it on your own.

In the morning
I was gone
for I had other locales to visit in the north
and her place hadn’t proven quite as welcoming
as I’d hoped.

We played “Run, Catch, Kill”
with you
though you weren’t actually invited to play.
Still
at the start of recess
every day
when the bell rang
my posse and I
would chase after you and yours
cornering you
taunting, teasing,
touching.

I remember salivating in class
anticipating the time
I could spend near you
abusive, infringing upon your individual space,
changing the name of the game
to “Run, Catch, Kiss.”
Commanding your presence
brought such pleasure
I could not at all explain.

You understood,
sort of,
once accusing me of “liking you,”
as your mother had explained it.
I denied everything
but loved you passionately
from a distance I sought to shorten
each day at recess.

I did such a good job
as a boy behaving badly
and a bad job
of treating you well.
The teachers saw us race,
us chase,
and shrugged it off.
The rest of the kids
soon grew out of their arrested developments
but as you developed,
I grew more arrested,
attentive,
aggressive.

For all those days,
I just couldn’t leave you alone.

I guess I never realized
just how beautiful you are.
When it began to dawn on me,
I grew horrified
about how I had behaved.
Please believe me
had I understood
how objectively gorgeous
everybody knew you to be
I’d never have pursued.
I would have certainly left you
well enough alone.

I am not the sort
to follow trends
and seeing exactly how trendy
you proved to be,
I realize my interests were ill-placed.
I can’t believe it myself.
I’m sorry,
so sorry
to have taken up
so much of your time
with my attention.

I didn’t understand
what was going on
or the sort of person you were.
I am normally aware
of my place in the pecking order
and I wish
I had never been so occupied
by one
that was so vitally different.

You were so plump
so flush
so full of potential
at the start.
The zest,
the sense of possibility
was tangible all around you.
In your presence
I could almost smell the pulpy goodness.

But you’ve spent your years
refusing to be replenished.
Perhaps you’re frightened
of what could be.
Perhaps you know full well
and for some reason
it doesn’t suit you.
You could be so much.
You could have so much.

But now you’re nearing empty
after being squeezed far too many times.
There’s still a bit of tang left about you
but you’re almost gone.
All of your better qualities
have been wrung out
and there’s nothing left.

I pray that’ll change.
There’s always the chance
that there’s more to come from you.
I hope so.
I would just love to roll over
and enjoy you again
in the morning.
To taste you again…
that’d be sweet.

Is there anybody out there?

It doesn’t matter.
I’ve stopped listening
stopped looking.
I am done with the outside world.
It is easier in here
with my books
and my poetry to protect me.
I shall remain separate from society
in my own personal space
locked away from all the rest.

I shall not care how I look.
I shan’t flinch at the scowls of the many
or the judgment of the few.
I will ignore all evidence of others
everywhere
for they mean nothing to me
anymore.

I am free
and this is the testimony
of my will
to leave the human race.
I’m done with the rest of you.
Goodbye

assuming there’s anyone out there
at all.

I didn’t think
I could do it
despite my claims.
I didn’t really believe
I could turn off the faucet
so quickly
and completely.
I lacked faith in myself.

In our past,
I’d said I would do anything for you,
sure,
and though I meant it
I knew full well
I would be unable
to lasso the moon
and pull it through your window.
I understood right away
that I might fight untold predators
for your honor
but not really,
not if you were just bullying some schmo.

My unconditional love
I realized
was conditional as fuck
and the things I would do for you
were not quite as limitless
as I’d thought.

All this is to say
I was proud of myself
for actually fulfilling your latest request
with the enthusiasm and alacrity
that was required.
I loved you yesterday
with a strength unlike anything under the sun
but you told me not to
so it’s done.

On the day after our anniversary
I was warned
by the umpteenth advisor
to keep my distance from you.

They can all see
with painfully little evidence
how bad a bet you are
and how unwise it would be
to remain in your presence
for any time at all.

They see your appeals
immediately
and they understand why I was taken in
but are quite quick to recommend
that I be free of you
as soon as possible.

I keep these people around
because they are wise
and experienced
and have my best interests at heart
but
they don’t know you
the way I do.

They might say
that they know you better
but I know
deep down
what the truth is
so I will be sure
to put them on furlough
until you help me
come to my senses.