jonberger

I’m afraid that I beg to differ
with your interpretation
of the behavior in question.
What you see as creepy
I see as charmingly eccentric.
What you consider stalking
I call romantic enthusiasm.

The ways I have repeatedly expressed
my appreciation for your shape
and its many attributes
is direct and honest
and that I have continued incessantly
despite your frequent deflections
is, quite honestly, pretty directed behavior.

I have seen a goal
that I wish to attain
and have been single-minded
in gaining you
(you’re the goal).
And yes, single-minded
can sometimes translate into monomaniacal
but my heart is pure.
My love is true.

On this
like so many other things
we’re just going to have to agree
to disagree
though, until I get released,
I’m afraid
that you might have gotten
the last word.

You know, in retrospect,
I might have said some things
that exacerbated the situation.
I’m sorry if my meaning had got lost
or misconstrued.
I never meant to lead you on
but I can see
just how it could’ve happened.

Smiling at you
clearly
gave you the impression
that I enjoyed your company
and thus
was conceivably interested
in some sort of horizontal mambo
or at least a twerk.
Apologies.

When I laughed at your stupid jokes
or politely acknowledged
your curious attempts at negging
I guess I gave you the chance
to believe
there was a chance for you and me.
Also apologies.

I let you buy some drinks
and accepted
when you refused reciprocation.
I never called you out
on your sexist, racist
ageist and occasionally height-ist rhetoric.
I allowed you to stay in my presence
and never outright stated
the nausea I distinctly felt.
All apologies, really.
I should not have let any of that stand
giving you the false impression
that you were anything more
than an undesired distraction.
Apologies, really,
all over the place.

I’m sorry I led you on.
But I’ve learned:
I shan’t do so again.

Thank you for the clarity.
Thank you for the cruelty.
Thank you for your honesty
and being thoughtful enough
to pull no punches.
It must have been awkward
and uncomfortable
for you to deal such violent truths.
I apologize for putting you in that position.

The best reward I can offer
for the discomfort you’ve experienced
is that the knowledge
from this difficult education
will inform my behavior with many others to come
– which might prevent them
from suffering the fate you have.
Hopefully, that is some sort of solace
and will have made it all worth it.

Either way
you needn’t worry
about hearing from me again
just as I think
that I have finally heard enough from you.

I have feelings
and emotions and opinions, too.
I have thoughts in my head, man.
I’ve got things to say
and I will say them.
I will speak out my ideas
using voice and words
and much much more.

There is so much
you should know about me,
like, I am ready to burst
with all the information i need to share.
It’s gonna come pouring out.

And it doesn’t matter
if no one’s listening.
And it doesn’t matter
if you don’t care.
I care a lot
about a lot of things
and it’s about time
that I express them.

You can’t stop it.
I’m gonna talk.
It’s happening.
Here goes:

The bartender that I love
just gave some tourists
bad directions
on purpose.

“Just make a left out the door,”
she said,
“and then keep going
until you see water.”

“You meant North,” I say,
the door closing behind them
removing any vestige of natural light.
“A left isn’t going to help them
at all.”

“Whatever,” she shrugs, going back
to watering down her drinks.

I am beginning to believe
that the girl of my dreams
is not a nice person.
I am finding cruelty
in even her smallest motions:
a flick of a wrist
that kills a fly;
a bump of a hip
that unseats an unsuspecting porter.

I suspect
the complexity that makes her compelling
is simply evidence
of her psychopathy.
Isn’t it often so,
that the characteristics of interest
are those of poor character?

Not that it matters.
My love is my love
and I feel for her
no matter how bad a person
she proves to be
but I am becoming increasingly glad
that she cares so little for me.
That should make our eventual schism
so much easier.

For Yom Kippur
I weakened and broke my fast.
I fought the good fight
but couldn’t hack it.
I lacked resolve
and after two hours off food
I had a turkey leg
and some fries
and a shake
and a couple bacon cheese burgers
and cocaine.

Some years,
your faith
or your god’s faith in you
is mighty
and you can achieve the impossible.
Some years,
you dine on your own hubris
and shit it out.

Some years,
it goes another way.

This year,
it went another way
after one hundred
and eleven minutes.

I could do the thing
that you ask of me
but doesn’t it make more sense
for me to fight you
tooth and claw
blood and sweat tearing through
your best defenses
ensuring a battle royale
that takes us through the weekend?

Who needs clean clothes
when we can argue
about who does more of the laundry
or who failed to do it?
Shouldn’t we agree on the systems
of our lives
far more than the actual lives we live?

Too, it has been so long
since I have seen the kind of passion from you
that I can easily produce through argument.
So instead of dousing your frustrations
or finding how to better please you,
I will continue to search for the best way
to raise your hackles.

Though doctors were concerned,
he insisted.
He was ready to leave
so they discharged him
against recommendation
and we got into a rented car
to head back home
which happened to be
hundreds of miles North.

I took the wheel
since everyone else
was exhausted from the hospital stay.
I don’t enjoy driving
but anything for family, right?
I drove until blurry
and then we leased beds
in a doorless suite.

Through the evening
I hoped his snoring would cease
so I could sleep in peace
but also prayed it wouldn’t
so he would not Rest In Peace.
I slept poorly that night
but we all survived.
The next day, yawning,
I shared the pilot’s chair.

It was hard running
racing through states
unsure if he would make it home
or die on the road.
He had sounded suicidal
weeks before
so we didn’t know if our hospitable departure
was simply some sort of cry for death.

But it wasn’t to be.
He made it through the trip.
We all did
and enjoyed years more in New York
but never again in Charlotte.

Doctor, doctor. Tell me what’s wrong.
Our session can’t be over; it hasn’t been that long
since you opened your door and we started off our chat.
We have a quarter hour left; I’m certain of that!
Don’t cut this short. Provide a psych report.
Then an evaluation and I’ll offer a retort.
Let’s continue our discussion since it’s on my dime.
I’m not asking for much – just a touch more of your time.

Just gimme four minutes. I gotta have that left.
Let me finish up the hour else I’ll be left here bereft.
Give me some advice; tell me if my heart is true.
We can wrap up our session with just what I need to do
in four minutes.
Four minutes…
Gimme four minutes!

Come on professor; I paid for this class.
Well, at least my parents did – or did they? I forgot to ask.
Of course I want the credits – but more, the education
of Brown V. Board’s decision and results on segregation.
I know some of the students are already at the door
but I’m a nerdy kid who needs the couple minutes more
still left in the class, lest I end up just a rube
simply squeezing out the sparkle from an empty lube tube.

Sir! Gimme four minutes. It’s the least that I deserve.
If I hear your final thoughts, I’ll get much further on the curve.
If the bell hasn’t rung, I demand more of the lesson.
You can cover three more pages of your book here in this session
in four minutes.
Four minutes…
Gimme four minutes!

I know you’ve had enough of me. Your words are no surprise
and though I’m sad our love’s collapsed before our very eyes,
I’m glad about the time we’ve had, your gentleness, your patience.
So let’s share a final kiss on this last day of our acquaintance
and if you’re so inclined and kind, or in that sort of mood,
you’d consider giving me the chance to one more time be screwed.
It doesn’t have to be straight sex, if you’d rather be on knees.
It just matters that I get some loving from you, baby, please!

Give me four of your minutes, that’s all that I’ll need.
If it’s our final moments, let us do the frigging deed.
Just two hundred forty seconds ought to turn it all around.
Turn that frown upside down and get ready to pound
for four minutes.
Four minutes…
Pleasure for forever or maybe just under four minutes!

I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you.
I really hate having to be in this position.
Frankly, I was hoping you’d find out
all on your own
– or, at least, someone else
would step up
and let you know
which way the wind blows.

Damage is definitively done
to some dude who does dirt
on some different dude’s
damned dumb dame.
But cookies crumble
different ways on different days
and I suppose it’s my time
to sit you down
and tell you all about Eva.

That girl of yours
has been seen about town
with various Toms with hairy dicks
like, three ways to Sunday.
When you’re at the club
she’s at a bar
with one or two of your friends
doing one or two things
you probably don’t do at home
like having sex in a compact
which I can assure you
is an experience
worth missing.

It gives me no pleasure
to bring you in the loop
of those who are aware
of what your lady does.
And Eva does a lot.
With many.
She’s proud of her proclivities.
It’s a wonder she’s kept them so quiet
but the secret’s out:
and so is she – with other boys.

I’m sorry, buddy.
She’s betrayed you – like, biweekly.
You deserve better.
You shouldn’t be with someone
so disrespectful as to date all of your friends
– present company included.

You should be
with a woman who loves you,
treats you well.
You should leave
horrible gals like Eva
to horrible boys like me.