jonberger

Were it any other time
at any other place
I might have been more forgiving,
more willing
to share that crunchy cookie of compromise.

I’d have felt less righteous
more self-conscious.
Even after all your simply ridiculous behavior,
I’d have been prepared to make compromises,
but you made a mistake,
I think,
trying this here,
where I endure.
Here, where I thrive.
Here, in my place of power.

Also, it’s late
and I get cranky,
so you’re fucking with me here and now
was a poor choice for our upcoming battle
– and, rest assured, the battle is coming.
I am prepared to defend myself
absolutely.
Try me, please:
Ask me once more
if I wouldn’t rather the deluxe.

She came back in
and quietly closed the door.
She knelt to pet the dog.
She went and unloaded the dishwasher
completely – even the dishes
that weren’t hers.

“Are there any apples?”
She asked.
“Check the fridge.”
She sat near the couch
where I made sure
not to look at her directly
and crunched on the Gala.

“Can we watch that dancing show
tonight?”
She asked.
She’d always complained about it before.
“I don’t see why not,”
I said.
The TV spoke the rest of the night
instead of either of us.

I never asked
where she’d been the last three days.
You might think
I wasn’t very forthcoming, but
I didn’t want to spook her.
I was just so glad
she was home.

She was gone again
in three months time.
Would she have stayed
had I been more expressive?
I’ll ask her
if she ever comes back.

Your new love sounds wonderful.
Your new love seems smart.
Obviously, your new love
is handsome and strong
and secure
and will never treat you badly
like your last love did
or the one before that
or any of the others.

Your new love is mature.
Your new love is safe.
Your new love does what no one else can
or ever could
and it’s simply amazing
that you hadn’t seen
all that greatness
lurking in your new love
in all the hours that led up
to you realizing that your new love
was, in point of fact,
your new love.

Your new love is sweet
and good and full
of nothing but potential
and I wish you well
with your new love
and all the opportunities therein.

I look forward
to all the stories you will no doubt have
of your new love
and how it will change the world
and is permanent and perfect
and that if all others
could experience the joy and simplicity
you have found in your new love,
then peace and prosperity
would circle the globe.

I look forward to how
your new love will unfold,
a beacon,
a shining crystal
that we all look upon with hope,
and wonder how long it will be
before we all
must bend to pick up the pieces.

So you failed yesterday.
You may fail tomorrow,
too.
It doesn’t matter.
Every day
is a fresh opportunity
to face your troubles
and try to overcome them.
Even if you’ve fucked it up
for eighteen consecutive months
you have a fifty fifty chance tomorrow
to rectify it.

Past action
does not dictate future results.
You can
at any instant
start on a new trajectory.
You can become what you will
whenever you will it.

Your history can be total mystery
for all that Fortune cares.
You can find her at any instant
so long as your eyes are open
and you are searching,
ready to accept her kiss.
No matter how big the mess
you can work it out.
There is always a chance.

You were walking down Ninth Avenue with me,
obviously seeking to maintain my speed
as we passed light
after light after light.
You wore a tight halter top,
a tight pencil skirt,
fishnet tights
– you were generally tight
and pretty all right.

I noticed the glances
you threw my way,
increasingly so
as first my breath faltered
and then my pace
and finally my heart rate.

Things got a little hazy
after I fell,
but I think when I came to
I saw you leaning over me
providing a great view
of your lacy bra
– which also seemed tight.

Not being able to catch my breath
I couldn’t ask for your number
which was a bummer, sure,
and since you opted not
to take the ambulance ride
to the hospital,
I never got the chance to ask you out.

I sure hope you follow Missed Connections,
and you’d be willing
to go walking with me again
once I get out of Physical Therapy.

When we meet,
could you bring the stilettos?

(For Daniel
After Cavafy)
When you go to Iceland
plan a quick flight
so you can find more time
to be where you want to be.
Take what you can from the airline,
its special culture,
the unique customs
and duty free goods,
but know that
the quicker you arrive
the more ice you can see.

When you get to Reykjavik
be sure to check out their McDonald’s,
their Arby’s,
the different ways that Domino’s makes a pizza.
Explore. Learn how your Nordic cousins live their lives.
Find what lessons are available
from renewable energy
and universal health care.

When you reach Iceland
appreciate the tiny country you have found
with its glorious vistas
and wondrous lights.
Become one with the natives
even if they refuse to speak
unaccented English.
Treasure the time
in your Iceland
and be sure
when you ask Bjork for a date
to mention her first band
so she knows
that your love is true.

My favorite Joe Jackson
is the worst Joe Jackson.
His third album tanked
without a single
or a tour to support it
but Beat Crazy,
always hard to find,
has always been my prize.

The album knew
it was a step-sister,
admitting so
in the liner notes:
"This album represents a desparate attempt
to make some sense of Rock
and Roll.
Deep in our hearts,
we knew it was doomed to failure.
The question remains:
Why did we try?"

It’s a mix of different styles
experimenting further
than any of Jackson’s others to date.
"Battleground" uses the N Word
and "Crime Don’t Pay" claims
the very ironic opposite.
I love "Beat Crazy," the song
and Beat Crazy, the album.

Joe Jackson’s third
is not available for sale
as far as I can see.
To this day
Jackson may wonder
why he ever tried
for something so strange
but I hope he realizes
that sometimes, you just can’t survive
unless you get a little crazy.

For most of the afternoon
I hung around my apartment
eating tomatoes
drinking seltzer
and doing the things
one does when alone.
I really don’t want to get into it
but after a while
the walls started to sprout invisible fur
and I had to bug out.

The coffee house did not have
my regular table available for me
even though I explicitly asked
that they keep it reserved for me
at all times.
Stymied, I fled
before having to sit
with people that had not yet
been properly vetted.

I almost stopped at the library
but a discarded ice cream cone
was melting near the stairs
and I couldn’t risk it.
I thought ants were encroaching
so I booked it out of there.

I thought I found some piece of mind
in the park
near the rocks
but the crust punks moved in
singing their stupid anthems
to pleasure and revelation.
That would not stand.
I stormed away.

So I’m home.
There was nowhere else to go,
no borders left to cross.
Everything had been explored
and all opportunities exploited.
I am home
alone, and
without options,
I will again do only the things
one does when alone.

She is first with a barb
or an insult
to make all in attendance aware
of her way with wit
– like a whip.
She is sharp.
She is stunning.
She is destructive
mostly to herself.

She makes the jokes,
and offers the critique.
She maintains control
of the damage done,
sharp, a scythe.
She is cruel
and suffers fools few,
brutal and bright each in turn.

Her attacks are quick
and most often self-inflicted.
She hurls the stones
shattering homes
before any other dares
so she can go on the hunt
for sinners.

She is not without sin
but has searched herself thoroughly
so she knows her own perfectly well
and is able
with clear conscience
to attack at will.

The way you dance
is poetry
and dissonance.

Cannibalized:
six hates seven
’cause seven ate nine.

Sixty nine shows,
in numerous aspects,
mutual respect.

Seventy years old,
he is again a child.

Building mud cakes
made them
partners in grime.

In time
and degree
death comes
to everyone.

“Words are very
unnecessary”?
Shut up,
Depeche Mode.

Aphorisms and poems
vary in length,
don’t they?