jonberger

You have failed in your mission in a fairly critical way.
You’d like to apologize but you don’t know what to say.
Perhaps you can rectify the situation now
but you can’t complete the project – not in time, anyhow.

If you continue working, maybe you’ll plod through
but the deadline still has passed, no matter what you do.
Still, you might feel better, if you work all through the night.
Is it worth it for the value? You’re not positive. It might…

It is time now for decisions. Choose to give up or go on.
Will you sink into your shame or get off the pot here, Jon?
The answer’s now for making: no time to be a jerk.
If you start up now this minute you just might finish work.

You’re right. I’m sorry.
If I loved you more, I would have made the effort.
If I loved you more, I would have tried harder.
If I loved you more, I would have cried when you cheated, instead of shrugging.
If I loved you more, I wouldn’t have driven you to it.

If I loved you more, we wouldn’t be here, oppositional, I suppose.
We’d be on the same side.
You’ve made your point; you’ve won.
I’m not quite sure if the prize is worth it,
but congratulations.

This night is ours.
We have the whole evening to spend
however we want
to live, to love
to discuss where we are
and what’s gone wrong.

I have my theories, of course,
and you have your silly little hypotheses.
We can hash them out
over wine and withering debate.
My idea of a delightful time.

This used to go so well.
We used to sparkle.
We used to sizzle.
Now, are fractured,
and we don’t know if this can be fixed.

That is, unless you listen
to my very profound theory.
Here we go…

It’s been a while,
but they’re acting up again there
in Squirrel City
and the leaders of the movement
are saying “Nuts to the dogs!
And fuck the red-tailed hawks!”

They’re looking for more acorns,
less child harassment,
and an expansion of Squirrel City’s borders.
The meeting is at night.
If the rangers hear the squeaking meeting
they’ll likely put their feet down
and seek to eradicate the City.

It wouldn’t be their first try.

“We must fight for the rights of Squirrel City!”
Some white maned guy is going,
and everybody roars
– but quietly, so as not to arouse further suspicion.

There’s gonna be some trouble coming soon.
Just you watch.

Hi from me in the future.
I just wanted to reach out to you back then and say,
“You’re really fucking it up.
Don’t do that. The fate of me lies in your hands,
and if you don’t change course,
the universe, too!”

Kidding. Who knows how this time travel stuff works?
I just got this shade wormhole to reach out to me, and I thought I’d give it a shot. Anyhoo…
Maybe thought I could provide some words of wisdom
from some time coming up. You can take it all with a grain of salt.
After all, what do I know? It’s only the goddamn FUTURE, after all!?!

So: Sweat the small stuff. It all counts, and you won’t know what specific issue
is going to prove especially important until it smacks you straight in the gut fifteen hours later.
Remember that thing with the Milk of Magnesia?
Maybe that hasn’t happened yet. Don’t worry about it. Moving on…
Think about your limitations, and be sure to always stay within them.
If you ever seek to stretch, failure is all there is. Trust me: I’ve seen the future
and I know what will be.

Find love wherever you can
but make love only with state-mandated partners.
If that’s not a thing yet, just wait a few weeks. It’ll be coming soon enough.
If you still believe you’re one hundred percent heterosexual,
you might as well start practicing otherwise, for the state-enforced gay stuff.
It’s six months away, tops.

Let’s see… climb every mountain…
look at beautiful paintings in their natural habitat…
only burn them if the voices are insistent…
tofu scrambles on third Sundays can be fatal…
That might be everything!

All right, looks like you’ve got the total download now.
Good luck, me,
Can’t wait to be you
February after next.

I’m not sure you understand.
If I put my phone away
I will not be able to take notes on what happens today.
If I don’t take notes
I won’t be able to write witty things
on the spur of the moment.
Without writing witty things,
what happens to my poetry,
the amazing things
that one and a half people comment on
every month or so?

How could you suggest I let my fan down?

It is thus impossible
that I leave my phone out of my sight.
I need constant access
in case I say something witty
or someone else says something witty
that I might be able to repurpose.

The second is a much more likely circumstance, yes.

Much much more likely.

Eventually, next Summer, I will grow a plant.
Eventually, next Summer, I shall become an emperor.
Eventually, next Summer, California will burn, but I will not be there
to see it.
Eventually, next Summer, my whining will finally seem charming
to someone.
Eventually, next Summer, I will find an ice cream that agrees with me.

Eventually, next Summer, you will agree with me about Palestine.
Eventually, next Summer, I will have a cogent position on Palestine.
Eventually, next Summer, Palestine will be in a safer situation.
Eventually, next Summer, I will meet a girl who calls herself Winter,
and she will not agree to see 500 Days of Summer with me
and that’ll be just fine.

Eventually, next Summer, everything’ll be all right.

After the dancing
was friendship, heartbreak and food:
pizza, you and I.

We both come and go
like seasons, each moving past
changing, remaining.

I don’t dance much now
still, I would like to share some
pizza with you, please?

The sweetest fruit
can be plucked
only at the right time
and must be consumed
whenever you wish.

The rain has covered it up, I think.
I’ve been walking so long,
holding the flowers so long,
so tight, since the cemetery.
I should have left the roses there.
That was the plan.
But I held on to them tight,
thinking, stupidly, they were you.

The empty raining road,
no one paid me any mind,
but now that it’s getting more crowded
and I realize the mess I’ve made,
I’m glad it’s gotten dark.

I must look a fright.
You looked so wonderful today.

I should probably get to a hospital.