jonberger

What I wrote before
appears not to have
quite been in English.
What seemed so clever and creative
at first glance
proved in the dark of night
to be naught but insensate ramblings.

And maybe that’s OK.
Maybe it’s all right
that occasionally
the artistic expressions I attempt
are simply rants of incoherent impotence.
Perhaps that says something
about the human condition
and we can all learn something
when I produce such uneducated dreck.
Yes, there is a lesson to be found here.
There has to be.

Or maybe I was drunk.

When I said what I said
I might have been wrong.
I swore I would follow you
no matter what
be there for you
regardless of any adversity
but I think we’ve both seen
that truer words
have frequently been spoken.

I should’ve taken you up on your offer
when you made it
and not sworn
whatever ridiculous oath I uttered
back when I said what I said.
I was stupid.
I was scared.
I was more talk
than I thought I could be
and I let you go
with barely a whimper.

You deserve better
so I suppose we can be thankful
that you’ve found it
and my mistakes
no longer mean anything
anymore.

The book I borrowed from the library
because you once mentioned it
has not been too easy to get into
though it’s proven really effective
as a doorstop.

I keep thinking
that the novel could be the thing
to bridge the gap
between me and your tits
and all it’s gonna take
is a really solid book report
to get me what I’m looking for
but that text does not seem amenable
to my plans.

Worse, I haven’t been able to renew it
and the fines are getting pricey
but I still have hope
and also
the doorstop is really good
for air circulation
at my place.

Weeds split cement
as is their wont
and sprouts of various sorts
crowd out the fencing
leaving very little sign
of what was there before.

Before
a mighty bar once rose
here in this lot,
a bar with an active clientele
and an enthusiastic audience.
Times change
as is their wont
and the audience left
and the clientele died
or vice versa
and the husk of the club
is currently overwhelmed by shrubbery.

The plants do not remember the past
or
not the same past
that we sometimes do
but I am not so green
that I cannot recall
when The Ersatz was here
and we partied
like it was 1999
for that is my wont.

We have stopped arguing, at least
but the eggs on which we tread
are new and fragile
and we must both be careful
where we step
and how, as well
lest we crash down into a mess
of fluid and shell.

We have agreed
to disagree
which means a variety of subjects
have now entered a DMZ
where hollow silence reigns.
No dangerous words can be said.
Some days, it seems,
no words are said at all.

Still
the fighting has stopped.
There is peace in our land
and formal relations
might even slowly become
increasingly informal.
For the time being, though,
certain theaters remain quiet,
still.

The bedroom is No Man’s Land
and the couch is mine.
The war is not truly over
but has become rather cold.

The battles are done
for now.
There is that.

Sean Lennon now
is older than John Lennon ever was
or ever will be.

Imagine:
what must that be like,
to realize you’ve outlived
and underperformed your pops?
Jesus’ first born
must feel something pretty similar.
Of course, Sean is bigger
than Jesus’ kid.
Proof: you ever seen the latter?
He must be smaller than a bug.

Sean Lennon, no doubt,
barely remembers his dad
but still feels resentful
of his absentee father
and all that he accomplished
in such a short time.

Beautiful boy:
don’t be a jealous guy.

Ali, were you
at the same Elvis Costello show
the other day that I was?
I thought, in the middle of the night,
I spied you jetting past
but you were so fast
and I was so intent
on that Left Banke reference
during that story of that song.

I didn’t know you liked Elvis.
I mean this Elvis,
not that Elvis.
You know: the Elvis in question.
I think you’d have mentioned
liking my favorite artist
at some point.

The girl who might have been you,
she was dressed to impress
and I was indeed impressed
that she was there
with me
in, at least,
a very technical sense of the phrase.

Anyway, was it you
at the show,
back in my flipped city?
I couldn’t be sure.
My aim may be true
but my eyesight ain’t exactly
what it used to be.

Give up on the day.
Just admit defeat
and request a do-over.
It can do no harm
to simply quit and be done
with a day that can do you no good.

Return to bed.
Resist the urge
to crash against the waves of fate
and suck up
the suckiness of the day
but do not despair:

Tomorrow can be a marked improvement
on the crumb bum dumb day
you escape.
You can be free of those errors
by starting fresh.
Just ignore what made today
the wreck it was
and be new and pristine
tomorrow

– unless there are things
from today
that will still need doing tomorrow.
Then you might be fucked.

In the part of the musical
where all the plans come together
and the melodramatic swell
of the villain’s cacophony of atrocities
all coalesce into those final
exquisite orchestral soundings
I found myself overcome.

When the band boomed on
and the heroine squealed in fear
there was not a dry eye in the house
nor dry pants in my seat.
I wet myself
over the wonder of the show
peed through that part
of the powerful performance.

It was a strong show,
is what I’m saying.
The orchestra’s playing
the protagonist’s singing
left me losing composure and control.

I can’t say
it’ll be the same for you
but this show might be most appreciated
if you’re already Depends-dependent.

Near the end
we swore eternal fealty,
that no matter what happened
we would always stay in touch
and maintain the sturdy relationship
we had at the start

except we had no relationship
at the start.
We met at the bar,
fell into bed
and then into patterns
that lasted mere weeks
before they all fell apart

which happened to our promises
as well.
So six radio silent years later,
should it be any surprise
that I find you
randomly
on pub crawl,
recently divorced
and seeking some escape?
I had missed you in the meantime

and wished I had been there
when you’d needed someone
but perhaps
taking you home
on accident
in the midst of your drunken downward spiral
was really more our speed, anyway.
May I

offer you another drink?