jonberger

I called Marcos to get the full story
that he’d told me back in the day,
how his AP History teacher
had been Bob Dylan’s History teacher
a couple or thirty years prior.

I wanted Marcos to regale me
with the story he’d shared
so long ago
before the dropout
and the drugs
and the hospitalization
and the moves and marriages
and adventures in other areas of the nation.

I hoped Marcos would have something to tell me
about Bob Dylan’s education
and what it shared with his own
and how madness and majesty
can be kissing cousins
and we are all
just a few degrees of appreciation
away from one another. 

I wished to be connected somehow
with the man who made me feel his love.
I hoped a tale from his schooldays
from sixty years ago could bridge our gap
but Marcos had nothing to share
and so, I guess,
neither do I.

When you wake up
take the drugs
that give you the special strength
to accomplish great things.
It may be some time
before they take full effect.
Gird yourself in your best protection:
engineer boots, leather mail
and a sturdy hat
to protect you from the elements.
When exiting the house
cover face
so the hell falcons
are unable to peck your eyes
(if you lose your eyes,
it’s all over).
Use your staff to disperse the birds
then rush to the tank
where you have the firepower necessary
to get to headquarters
where you can verify
if the coup to overpower
the Evil Rumpenmen continues apace.

If so
provide rousing speech to your squad
preparing them for war,
then trade your tank in
for the electric unicycle
where you can easily outpace
any of the walking trees
near the base.

Travel behind any shadow sisters you see
but beware of startling them
(if you startle a shadow sister,
it’s all over)
so keep in mind it might take a while
to get to the laundromat.
When you arrive
throw a cluster bomb
thus slaughtering all enemies
in the vicinity.

When facing the laundryman,
give the code word
then provide the laundry ticket
you were given yesterday
Receive your clean clothes.
Put the pack on your back
and uni home swiftly
before the enemy swarm repopulates.

When home
kick aside any hell falcons
you might have rendered unconscious
when departing.
Inside, enjoy clean clothes.

When we take our clothes off
please promise me
that you won’t laugh.
Tell me that you’ll be kind
about what you see
and remember
that despite the scars and pocks
and assorted abnormalities,
there was something amongst it all
that you had wished to see.
Don’t regret that decision, please.
Don’t make me regret it.

Ignore the smells.
Put them aside
along with the squelching sounds
my stomach makes
when it meets
what I can only assume
are other parts of my stomach.
Accept that sweat is a natural function
even in the quantities I produce.

I beg of you,
when we reach that point
– if we ever do –
keep in mind what I have said before:
that this in a way
is what you had requested
and also
you had been warned.

You looked really pretty last night,
which is,
I know,
something I should have said last night
and not muttered like a Monday morning quarterback
with the perfect hindsight
and only ultimately
an excellent way with words.

I should have told you
how wonderful it was to be with you
while I was with you
and not thinking about it afterwards.
Was it because I was struck dumb
by your beauty
or worried that you’d see
the obvious evidence of my interest?
It was hard
to remain cool in your presence
because, of course,
you were so hot.

You were so fun.
You were so amazing.
You were something special
and I’m sorry I didn’t say it then
when it mattered most
but it still matters today
so
I hope it’s OK that it’s been said.

I really wanted to talk to you some more
and I really wish I hadn’t left
and I’m really sorry I lost the chance
to spend more time with you.
I regret how I messed things up
– really.

I really enjoyed the moments we had
and I really look forward
to doing it again
and I really reallyreally hope it’ll happen sooner
and I really hope I’m not being a freak
right now with you
for real.

I’m really excited for what comes next
and I’m really worried how much I care
and I’m really interested in your reactions
to me
and my behavior
and my offers of friendship
and anything else
you might consider accepting.

(breathe in)
I’m,
I’m really glad we had this time
to talk.

Occasionally
you will add a word
to that story you are composing,
that thing that you devote yourself to,
your nominal reason for being.
It will be a good word
or an uncertain one
that will be replaced back and forth
for days to come.
It is slow going,
your story,
but you have no doubt that when it’s finished,
so too will be your obscurity
and poverty
and insecurity.

The story will no doubt complete you
for something has to.
Love has not
nor has family,
good friends,
not wine nor drugs,
nor a really good dinner with Dina.

But you’re on to something
with this story,
this sweet
smart, sophisticated
satisfying story.
Once you’ve got it done
everything will change.
Once it’s finished,
some day soon
in the next millennium.

I may not know dick
but I do know
just a little about him.
Dick Shawn, late comedian,
is no relation to Wallace Shawn,
who starred in the inconceivably big hit
My Dinner With Andre.
Dick Shawn is also nothing akin to Robert Preston
from Music Man and Victor Victoria,
directed by Blake Edwards,
who was married to Julie Andrews.
Dick Shawn, too,
is unrelated to Sean Connery,
retired star
of one of the oldest series you’ve ever seen.

Dick Shawn was the guy
who died
in the middle of a performance
and he did it so seamlessly
that the audience laughed for five minutes
before someone thought to check the vitals
on the corpse.
Those were 1987 minutes,
by the way,
so you know they counted for something.
1987 is the year I started college.
No relation.

The world is full of unrelated information
but an investigative mind
with a thorough imagination
can use a little data
to tie conspiracy strings together
and come up with curious pictures indeed
– even if that mind
doesn’t really know dick.

I still can’t decide
if I did the right thing
by cutting class
when I realized
before entering the room
Mrs. Hanratty
was subbing in Biology
and spun around
and on my way.

Missus H is awful and incompetent
and I wasn’t gonna learn anything in that class
but she might know how to take attendance
and I’ll have an absence on my record.

On the other hand
it’s a free period.
On the third hand
Susanna’s in that class
and I could’ve talked to her
all through the period.
On hand the fourth, though,
there might have been some stupid assignment
that I’d have to do.
On the fifth hand: that assignment might earn extra credit,
which I could’ve used.
On the sixth: pranks.
Weren’t we supposed to study insects today?

Damnit. I’m not at all sure
if I chose poorly or not.
It’s too late
for me to go back
(Fourth Period is almost over)
but I can’t tell at all
if I made the right choice
or the left one.

I am absolutely worried about the economy, sure,
and the sorry state of the constitution
and equal rights
– all that kind of stuff –
but the real thing that keeps me up at nights
is a substantiated fear that my pants are gonna divide
like some Egyptian sea.

There’s a seam splitting
right near my crotchal area
and I keep thinking it may be growing.
My fingers find themselves in that area
with some regularity
and I’m uncovering more of a suspected opening
each and every time.

I am behaving like it’s any normal day
but in a minute
or an hour
or a second,
I’m gonna get broken
and my legs will burst out of their denim cocoon
my old underwear a monochromatic moth.
It is causing me distress.
I have no other pants with me
and when these slacks
decide to transition,
I will be out and about
in more ways than one.

Help me, Jesus.
Keep my pants together
for the rest of the day
to allay my anxiety
and maybe do something
about the Middle East, too.

There’s nothing in the tank.
You squandered your resources
ignored the warning signs
and now, finally,
at the last,
you’re working off of fumes
and you’re getting nowhere.

You’re gonna crash any minute,
just stop short
and any momentum you had
will fizzle and dissolve
into nothing.
You’ll be just done
and have nowhere to go.

Any second now
you’re gonna get rattled
and while you might spin your wheels
a little bit longer
you’ll be sputtering to a halt
in no time flat.

You’re gonna stop
at any instant
and it’s gonna be ugly,
I tell you.
Any
instant
now…