jonberger

Please excuse that embarrassment of an individual
who came at you yesterday
with all manner of inane queries.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
He never does.
He just just talks and talks
and talks and talks and talks
hoping that eventually he’ll get to some sort of point
which never happens.
Never.

If you wasted your time
or found yourself confused
or was led to believe that you were doing something wrong
I’m very sorry.
It wasn’t you at all.
It was him.

He’s an ass
who doesn’t understand existence
the way normal people do.
He’s not a real boy
if you know what I mean
– though he probably doesn’t.
When it comes to genuine interactions
he’s in the weeds.
If he bothers you again
a loud sound will probably frighten him off.
Pay him no mind.
Forget hm.

She offered me fish waffles
because she thought it would be funny.
I ate the fish waffles
because I wanted to see her laugh.
I wanted to see her smile.
I wanted to do what she told me.
I wanted to be under her command.
I wanted to get in the game.

The fish waffles
were nothing like what I expected
but how could they be?
What the hell is a fish waffle anyway?
Roe in batter?
Tilapia pressed in a waffle iron?
Bagels and lox,
only waffles and fish?
I had no idea what I was getting into.

I know now.
I know
but I’ll never tell.

All right.
I will say this though:
they do not stay down too long.

When you amputate the leg
do me a favor
and save the bits.
I’d like to fry up tiny segments
and serve them to friends
over the holidays.

Plus
there might be research to be done
in the state of my disease that might help others
so let’s give some to Science
which no, doubt,
will have much to say
about the nature of my knees.

I would hope to get some sketches
of the unattached appendage
and possibly get part of its length
bathed in bronze
so the leg can stay with us forever
as legs have been sometimes known to do.

Alternately
you could save the leg,
avoiding any amputations at all.
Just spitballing here.
Whatever works best for you.

Beware the hobbling man
his cane of flash
and stilted gait.
Be aware he needs wider room
and the patience of those all about
lest he explode in impotent fury.
His is a righteous anger
for he is frustrated at a world that lets him
crawl around on all threes
hoping to arrive in some reasonable amount of time.

He will not.
He may never get
where he hopes to go
and will yell at you
as long as he has not reached
his desired terminus.

The hobbling man has a bitter life
which he will readily share
if you do not successfully evade him.
He hunts at all hours
looking for one to blame
for his own limp.

Keep constant watch for the hobbling man.
Always be aware of his presence.
Beware.

The water in Westchester was out this morning
as was NJ Transit
and two bodies were found
in the water outside Weehawken.
What the hell is happening?
Donnie, what did you do now?

Can’t you see
what you’re doing to me?
You ruin everything
simply by being around.
Even the LIRR suffers under your stewardship.
And it’s misty out.
And my leg hurts
and the Ben Gay really smells.

Thanks a lot, Don.
Wonderful hundred days,
wouldn’t you say?
Get it together, will you,
all right?

The heat
is palpable.
I can feel her next to me
despite inches of separation.
I feel her move.
I sense her presence
from the changes in the air
between us
long before our thighs glance off each other.
It is all quite intense.

I eye the space between us
wondering if it will grow or close.
Wondering if either of us
have intent
involved in the intensity of the heat.
I sweat,
droplets dribbling down my nose.
I simply stare forward
hoping she doesn’t notice.

It is so hot
and she is so close.
I can feel it all.
This exquisite torture will end eventually.
It has to.

You keep accusing me
of writing nasty poems about you
when really
I’m just writing nasty poems.
I don’t think you come up
as often as you ragingly state you do.

That piece last month
called For the Gipper
was actually about Sally Field.
And the piece called Sally Field?
Really about Sally Forth.
You know: the cartoon? Whatever.

It’s true that I do occasionally come up
with mean things to say
about you
but part of the art
is to disguise intent
so that my diatribes read
as more universal.
That is just one of the many reasons
that I am an amazing artist.
Is that a difference between us?
You be the judge.

Oh,
and in case you were wondering
who this one is about?
Still not you.

In retrospect, it’s all much clearer.
The conditions seem much different
from this different perspective
and additional knowledge
make hindsight twenty twenty,
ten out of ten.

In retrospect, she wasn’t that pretty.
In retrospect, she was kind of a bitch
and a bigot
and I think I heard two or three references
to bestiality – but not the sexy kind.
In retrospect, it makes much more sense
and I see how much better off I be
now that I witness so objectively.

In retrospect, the sun shines brighter,
the bees buzz softer,
the trees grow less ominous.
I am at one with the world
now that I see the truth:
that her rejection
is the best event to have ever occurred
and the fine wine that seemed so delectable then
tastes, in retrospect,
a lot more like vinegar, after all.

Well, I finally got around
to reading your book
and let me tell you:
it was very well typed.
I thought the title was quite apt
and the punctuation was spot on!

You had a very clear vision
that was executed with subtlety
and a dynamism that few could deny.
I was very impressed
by the length of the chapters
and the font
and the kerning.

I must admit
I found the absence of colons disappointing
but you made up for it
with all those bulleted lists,
so thanks for that.

Anyway,
that was quite a first attempt.
You should be very proud
for getting it off the ground;
I don’t know why it took me so long
to get around
to giving it a glance.
I look forward to your next –
You’ve finished the sequel?
And the prequel?
And you’ve already written some of your own anonymous fan fiction?

Great.
…I’ll get on those right away.

This one goes out to the hand jobs I missed,
to the alleyway assignations
I accidentally avoided,
to all those lips which
I proved unable to kiss.

Raise a glass to the night
and its infinite opportunities
only available if you’re aware of them
or willing to dare.
Let us drink
to those unlimited abortions
of possibilities unpursued.

The chance not taken
is the best one of all
because all of its potential
is in imagination:
more powerful
and wider than anything mired in reality.

God bless you,
illusory skanks of my dreams.
You are finer than anyone
I shall ever know
in this cruel and tattered world.