jonberger

I could have done more.
If I’d just…
I don’t know.
I could have done more.

If I’d made more money…
I threw away so much money
on Cheetos and porn
you have no idea.
If I’d just…
I didn’t do enough.

One more email.
One more post.
I could have reached out to relatives
in the mid-west.
I could have pretended to be someone’s relative
in the mid-west,
some old doddering conservative
hearing from grand-nephew Jimmy
for the first time in years.
I could have convinced fake Great Aunt Fanny
or someone like her
to take another path.

This car.
I could have sold this car.
Why did I keep the car?
Ten sponsored posts right there.
Ten posts
to a community of my choice.
Ten more people turned.
Ten more votes.

This pinned message
at the top of my feed.
I could have made more.
I could have shared more posts
or phone banked
or gone door to door.

There is so much I could have done
so much that could have helped
so many groups to donate to.
I could have gotten more word out
and I didn’t.
I didn’t
and now
a chill goes through me.

Yes.
You are absolutely right.
It is decidedly possible
that everything will turn out for the best
and our leaders will put aside their differences
and help their constituents.
They may even redefine
what their individual constituencies consist of
and help everyone.

It is conceivable
that when the opportunity comes
we will all rise to the occasion
and do what we must
tonput aside partisan bickering
agree on what needs to be done
and then fucking do it.

It is within the realms of potential
that a man
famous for his boorish
inconsiderate
violently deceitful
sexist and fearful beliefs,
that a man like that,
when faced with absolute power
will behave in a way contrary to his history
and do good.

There is a chance of hope
an imaginable situation
where this will end well.
Stranger things have happened
like

(After Debe)
I couldn’t do it, ‘Ma.
I had the best opportunity,
the very one I’d sought
and could have done great work
to win
but I failed
miserably.

In my grasp
I had my enemy
and a chance to discuss
honestly, truly
what separated us.
I could have taken advantage
and learned more about our divisions.
I could have worked
to bridge the divide.

I wanted to.
I spoke of such a thing
just the other day
but today
I yelled.
I fought.
I took up the spear
rather than speak well to my enemy.

I had my cheek ready,
waiting to be turned.
Instead
I spat on his.

At least the art’ll be great.
At least creativity will progress
and originality will explode
and the poetry produced
will be more violent
and the sex angrier
as opposing ideologues
will lash each other
with tongues
and other things.

The forms
the frequency
the style and sorts
of art
will change
for the bigger
and better
and brighter
and meaner
and more militaristic
and
and at least the art
coming up
will be fucking marvelous.

Right now
I cannot be touched.
I do not seek the feel of another
across my skin
the sense of pressure from someone else’s body.
I do not wish to feel anyone
making any form of contact.

I am shell shocked.
I am haunted.
I am crushed in outlook and visage
and cannot bear
the associations of others.
I seek solace only
in solitude.

I feel beaten and ashamed
and deserve no other to be near me
after these defeats
that I never imagined possible.
I am not worthy of touch.
Please respect that
and for now
leave the ogre alone.

Last year
I tried to convince my four friends
three named Kelly
(and another guy)
to go by Preston & the KKK
– because of their relative names
and initials.
They weren’t too into my little suggestion
and now
the joke isn’t funny anymore.

Last year
such a reference seemed distant
either by years or miles
from the life I led.
It still seems somewhat distant
but I fear
it seems
to be getting closer.

I think the name was in bad taste anyway
whether insulated from its reality or no
so I’m glad they opted to ignore me
last year.
I don’t know
what will happen about any of this
next year.

It is a cold day
with skies grey
and darkening
just when you’d hope that they’d brighten.

It is clammy out
and fogs are rising across the state.
It is an unpleasant day
moist and with diminished travel conditions.

I do not recommend this day
for most
and if you have the opportunity
do what you can to skip this day
but
if you cannot
if you are required by temperament or circumstance
to soldier on
then good luck
and more power to you.

If it helps,
then at the least
keep in mind
that the day
grey and wet as it may be
will end.

Every day finally
will be done.

Halloween is over.
The time has come
to remove all hooded cowls
and to look blearily
into the cool November dawn
and say
“Enough of disguises.
Let us not talk falsely
for the hour is too damned early
for such foolishness.”

It is time for decisions.
It is time for culmination.
It is time for thoughts to be completed
and disagreements to cease.
Let us agree
that all the activities of late
should fade
into a somewhat more civil state.
Let us
please
let us have peace
and put away the fright masks
for at least a year.

This is not an hour
that I am used to experiencing.
The particular quality
of this daylight
is currently unfamiliar to me.
I do not enjoy awaking unduly
but there are special occasions
with special responsibilities.
Today
I had work to do
which was better done early
and often.

I had to take out the trash
make some necessary repairs
and fix up the house.
I needed to start the day promptly
to let the settling more quickly begin.

The flow of traffic on the streets
it is beautiful and awesome.
The determination on the faces this morning
is worth seeing again.
I am not used to this early hour
nor used to the difficult work of getting up
getting out
but there is something glorious in it
and it is something
I ought to do far more often.

Maybe next year.

Take this advice
from an old one who has sat around
this world for quite some time
and in that time
has learned a few small things.
Beware:
if you talk to the hot girl
you must listen to the hot girl.
You will have to hear her tales of woe
how no one looks her in the eye
but stares willingly at her large breasts
her long legs
her pleasing smile
and yes, admittedly
sometimes at her green-flecked blue eyes,
but only to objectify,
never with respect.

You will be required
to nod and ask probing questions
about ways
in which the ugly world doesn’t understand her,
how everyone
of all spectra of genders
are simply on the make
seeking something from the hot girl
like sex
or approval
or delightful arm candy.
You will be involved
in many detailed conversations
about keeping fit
and primed
and ready to remain
well-viewed
by a cruel planet
but also
how hard it is
to be remain well-viewed
by said cruel planet
and how she wishes it were different.

Trust the words of one who knows:
when you engage
with the beautiful,
it is no simple contract.
If you wish to maintain your connection
you must be respectful
and involved
and treat her
like any other sort of citizen
before they bore of you
and fly away
lighting upon another ogre
with whom to keep company
until another of their species
comes back around.