This is not a day
for thoughtful consideration.
This is a day for mechanics:
an arrow being notched
a trap door opened
a watch wound.
The planning has been done
but brains won’t function today
so now
we must rely on instinct,
on auto drive,
on computer assistance.
There is nothing left to do.
Today is for sands settling,
for chips falling,
for…
I got nothing.
Can somebody else find
some kind of an ending?
I really should leave.
You and I
are not gonna go
the way you seem to want.
I’m sorry.
This
is not
working out.
You’re not happy
with my distance
and I’m not happy
with your expectations.
We don’t seek the same things.
Oh, yes,
I like you.
No question.
I really enjoy the conversations
and laugh?
We laugh, like,
all the time!
You’re cool and all
but I don’t want to fuck you
you know?
I don’t want our parts to mesh.
I kinda wish I did.
It would make things
much easier.
I have offered you what I can,
what I want to.
I’ve offered you
what I’m willing to.
I’m sorry if it’s not enough
but it doesn’t matter.
It’s what’s available.
If you’re seeking something more
you should look someplace else.
I’ve given you already what i have
to give you.
So…
I’m gonna go.
Again: sorry.
We’ll bury her when we have time.
We’ll bury her when we get the chance.
We’ll bury her when we find the resources
when we gain the manpower
when it serves our ancillary objectives.
We understand the need
we appreciate your concern
we sympathize with the widower’s plight
but we don’t have the means
to prioritize this particular proceeding
at this time.
As soon as we have the ability
we will inform you
of the time, location and availability
of the burial
and we may even be able to finance the funeral,
to boot.
We will not,
however,
be able to fund the boots.
"Petals drift in the breeze
falling far more slowly than
my own lonely tears."
Is that kind of shit
what makes you drop your panties?
If so, I got lots more:
"I dream of your smile
all through the winter, summer
and all in between."
Which excludes Autumn,
I guess. Maybe that is when
we saw each other?
"Please let no seasons
pass when I am without you.
I couldn’t stand that."
See? I’ll pull this crap
all day, if that gets you wet.
I’m sensitive, bitch!
If you dial me
I might not be waiting there
by the phone
doing nothing
simply hoping that you’ll call.
I could be out and about
adventuring down the avenues
of this great city.
I could be in some other city,
meeting new and exciting people,
dancing with doctors
or drawing doubloons out of dories
or any number of other ways
to waste time.
I am a man seeking to be entertained
and I might be involved in anything at all.
I will not squander my middle age
as but a pillow,
hoping eventually to be used.
If you call,
I may not be available
to pick up
and bail you out of your boredom
but I think we both know
that when I get the message,
I’ll get back to you
as soon as humanly possible.
She was beautiful
and acted it
in that self-knowing way
that made it unlikely
she knew how to pay for drinks
or wait on a velvet rope
or how to hear “No.”
I was no help in teaching her
trying to please in any way I could.
There weren’t many,
I learned,
through the subtle lessons
of her gorgeous pout
her glorious shrug
and her horrible complaints
that were subtle
but oh so cruel.
When the Fall came
she broke up with me.
Maybe she broke up with me before
but I was in Pennsylvania
and she was here
so maybe I just didn’t learn about it
until getting back to school.
It was almost certainly
the most important education
I got from that place.
This has just been a whirlwind
of sex and drugs
and amazing experiences.
I really loved your band’s gig last night
and the way you looked at me
during that cover
made everything all the more perfect.
I’m so glad we’ve had this time
together and I don’t want it end
even if you’re leaving town
in two hours.
Anyway, I really appreciate
everything you’ve done for
and to me.
Thank you for last night
and I think I’m in love
with your bass player, so
if you could roll over and
ask her out for me,
that’d be really sweet.
I can’t seem to get it up anymore.
Seems like I’ve gone off the deep end
and like far too many
intriguing things.
My tastes are so selective
it’s hard to do anything
without it being extreme
and painful.
What got me started?
Maybe it was the carbon sex
or the two-year subscription
to Porpoise Three-Ways
or that live show
with the male heterosexuals
giving head to giant black headed beetles.
Any way you slice it
the porn just doesn’t do it for me these days.
Perhaps it’s time
to dial back on all these curious proclivities.
This might be the opportunity
to strip it down
so that I think – so I fantasize –
about only the purest,
most primitive of things.
With effort,
I might be able to get excited
like in the old days
by a stiff breeze
or a teacher leaning over.
Or maybe if I imagine
some poor cosmonaut runaway
taking it up all seven holes,
that might rev my engines…
No.
Still nothing.
Maybe if her brain pan was visible?
I’ll figure this out.
With enough practice
I’m sure this will all come together.
The sign read “Deliveries Only,”
not “Believers Only,”
as I’d originally thought
but neither seemed to apply to me
so I left the place
alone.
He got out of his car
and punched my side mirror,
shattered reflections strewn across the street,
frame hanging on by a wire.
He returned to his car,
reversed,
going one way the wrong way,
before speeding straight ahead
past me
through a yellow light.
He did all this
while I fiddled with my phone
trying to photograph him
and his car
and his license,
then gave up,
attempting to take down his license plate
before the numbers escaped my sieve-brain.
Even in that, I failed
and the scofflaw escaped
scot-free.
I called the cops
but immediately hung up, realizing
I didn’t even catch the state of the vandal.
I could have attacked him.
I could have said “Hey, you!”
I could have chased.
Hell, I could have written down the information
on paper and fucking pen.
Instead,
I did nothing
useful;
merely glancing at the broken glass,
full of many a miniature me
staring back up.
jonberger 