jonberger

Through the year I had been educated, but during summer break I had hoped to take it easy so at the stand I’d take
a job that would allow me opportunity to earn
but at that place I soon discovered much still left to learn.

The hot dog stand was situated in my college town
from which the gowns evacuated leaving many frowns
to the locals who – no yokels – had to find ways to make dollahs. Thus: the hosted months-long expo called The Hampshire Summer Gala

It was at work with I shared some shifts with lass in quite short skirt; a figure grand, a great smile and a wondrous way with flirt. A younger girl – a high school girl – that’s what she was to me but my peers would sing the praises of the lovely Kyrie.

She was talented with tongue and teeth said boys who worked the fair and she was friendly ’nuff to me but I could never dare
to ask her to go out with me – at least out to my car
afraid that with me, she wouldn’t choose to go that far.

I feared, though rumors said she didn’t discriminate on taste, that I was somehow special and on me she wouldn’t waste
her considerable appeal and we’d end the night as friends.
I didn’t think that was the way my summer fable ought to end.

I didn’t try even though I had had at least a chance
to experience with my Kyrie twelve seconds of romance.
So I left the summer job with not a kiss nor bit of tail.
Make the effort towards goals. That’s the lesson of this tale.

The universe is huge
and hidden
and I am humbled by its hundred billion secrets.
As much as we may now know
there is still so much else kept in constant disguise.
I want to plumb existence’s truths
but I hardly know where to start.

What is the circumference of a pie?
When is it right to cum in her eye?
What happens to fish souls when they die?
How do you bribe the big guy in the sky?

These are just the start
of the questions that plague me
and I don’t know how to answer them.
Where can I learn the cheat code
to reality
and how will I know
if I’ve already found it?

Thank you, but I can’t.
I won’t.
I don’t need the extra weight
it could add to my thighs;
no lies I tell myself
would justify me having
the Triple Decker Choco Peanut Butter Sundae Explosion! again.

I shouldn’t.
I shan’t.
I can’t afford to damage my arteries
in that way.
My blood sugar levels
are far from OK.
I will have no lacteal product today.
No way, no how, my pal Jose!

That sugar would make my diabetes hurt.
So, again, thank you. No. And sorry I’m curt
but ice cream for me. It makes my hearts burst.
I won’t eat that treat; I’ll have the bratwurst.
It’s the healthiest food in my mind
– well, the first.

John Lennon
who was a Beatle
wrote a song called “It’s Only Love,”
which he hated.
He said it was one of his two songs
with the Beatles
that were the worst
– and the other one wasn’t “Revolution #9,”
so you KNOW
he must have really hated it.

It’s a trite song
for sure
but like everything done by the Beatles
it was done by the fucking Beatles
so it’s still not that bad.
It’s not “Run for your Life,” at least
which was the worst song Lennon
could think of
in his Northern Songs catalog.

Still, he was a Beatle
and he’s dead
so I think maybe
he could cut himself some slack
even if it’s so hard
to love that song.

It is not as if
every single day
I find you more distasteful
than the last, but
there is certainly
some sort of an upward trajectory.

It didn’t used to be this way.
There was a long time
during which I trusted you
believed in you
had some limited faith in your abilities.
Those days have long passed.

Much of it
has to do with the stories I’ve been told of you
and the ways I’ve seen you interact with others.
It certainly didn’t help
that you failed to include me
in so many of your reindeer games.

I must admit
most days
I have been blessed to not think of you
but somehow
these last few months
you are a plague on my memories.
You are entering my existence
far more often than I would like.

Normally in my writing
this is where I’d include a clever reversal
suggesting that my outward claims secretly hide
some sort of shamed affection,
but my feelings for you
are not clever.
There is no subtlety in my abhorrence
just a desire to be done with you
that seems to be belayed
by this very writing I’ve undertaken.

Tomorrow perhaps
I’ll be able to put you in your proper place
and not dislike you more than today
but somehow
I doubt it.

We speak Spanish in America.
We dig emeralds in America.
We decline peace
with rebels in America.
We pay pesos a day
here in America.
We live together
in America.

We are living in America.
We are living In America.

We dance in America.
We grow in America.
We move and thrive and escape
all through all Americas.
We find the product that others want
and we sell it like everybody’s business
right here in America.
We sing in America.
We are in the middle
of America.

We are living in America.
We are living In America.

We are poor in America.
We wage war against ransoms in America.
We hail Simon and Santander in America.
We are like all others in America
except maybe out neighbors’ up North.
We live our lives as well as we can
while living
right here in America.

We are living in America.
We are living In America.
We are living in America.
We are living In America.

We fight. We rage.
We war against each other often
and it is exhausting
and unendurable
but understand
I will endure our fights
always.
Our battles
awful as they are
are part of us
and a part I would not disperse
since they offer us a better chance
to reach ultimate intimacy.

Our arguments need never break us apart.
Know this:
I’m your man
always
and no matter how we scrape and claw
at one another
whatever wounds we inflict
nothing would be so damaging
as for me
to no longer be yours.

I hope you feel the same
but whatever answer you provide
will not change mine.

Still
you’re wrong.

People visit Constitution all the time
in that the train to Atlanta takes them
through the sign located
where the ghost town used to be.
There’s nothing left now,
not since the War of Northern Aggression.
History’s taken it away.

There are prisons near the town’s resting place
but even those prisons are zombies now
no inmates walking their halls
or haunting the cells.

In the region
there are no sights to see
or sites to link to
or citations to cite about
this former home
of the formerly living.
It’s ghosts may whisper
of some prior world
but we ignore it
since the sounds of American trains
overwhelm their scratched voices.

Only our imaginations can inform us
of the world of Constitution, Georgia
now one hundred and fifty years gone.
Imagination
or more diligent research.

I thought you were different.
I thought you were the one.
I thought
that you were the kind
who could save me from solitude
and give me a legacy
and allow me
to live in the company of equals
but
it turns out
you’re no different
from any of the others
and when you’ve taken enough from me
learned of my considerable faults
you’ve got your escape plan ready
and you’re parachuting away.

You’re the same as the rest.
You’ve had your fun
and now you’re gone.
You’re the same as the rest.
You’re frightened
and you’re gone.
You’re the same as the rest.
You’re gone.

I really thought this time it would be different.
I really believed you’d be different
but that’s the very same thing
I think every single time.

You leave his apartment
without exchanging information.
He seemed so interested and interesting last night
but that was less than five hours ago
and today he’s got an early meeting
so you’re walking through the park
to reach the train
to get to your bus
to eventually reach your shower and sheets.

But maybe it’s the hangover
or the paucity of sleep
or the aches from an uncomfortable bed
or just unimpressive sex,
but every step of your trip seems
Impossibly difficult.
Your heels are no match for the park’s damp earth
and your skirt’s a bit too tight and shiny
for this hour of the morning.
It’s turning into a craptastic day.

Last night seemed so promising
but today promises to be just another frightful walk of shame
pondering the mistakes of the past.
It starts to rain
which you might have known
had you checked the weather
not that it would have mattered.
You’d still be out
now
with the same regrets.

And maybe
this is not a shame walk you’re on.
Maybe this
is just how you live these years
when you can afford to risk
and strive
and learn lessons
through scrapes and hurt.
Maybe
this is simply the journey of your life.

You hope not.
You descend to the train tracks
and head for home.