jonberger

You should go into the card business.
Just say your clever little things
as the punchlines
on the inside of cards
and you could make a mint!

Or a radio writer.
There haven’t been popular radio shows
for a couple of years now.
That’s a field you could enter
and conquer.
I have faith in you.

You could write the Great American Novel
or, perhaps,
a Great American Novel
or, at least,
write about a Novel Great American.
Anything’s possible
if you put your mind to it.

You could sell your ideas
for hundreds of thousands of dollars
or trade them for stocks
or offer them as donations for the poor
and give those suckers a reason to live again.
You can do it.

You can do it.
Just try.
For god’s sake
try something!

My guest room tonight
has no windows
just a mirror behind shutters
kept closed
so I don’t have to see how fat I’ve become.

The dogs
black bitches both
who are not allowed on the bed
in which I’ll sleep
(though certainly
they should have more rights here than I)
scratch at the door
seeking entrance into my private
albeit temporary
residence.

The birds have gone quiet
in the dark
and the crickets
are trying to harmonize
with the drunken humans
who will not abandon the yard
though they left decorum behind hours ago.

I am alone
in this room
with no view
and am waiting
until everyone else has gone to sleep
to leave this space
and say goodbye.

There is a place
among the million spheres
where everything went your way.
It is, however,
in a reality
that is somewhat hard to reach.
Off the beaten track
you can find it
past the Path of Profits
in an existence
where the Jews were not abused
but dominated
not just business and entertainment and philosophy and religion
but politics as well
and the globe bent to Hebraic sandals
and all peoples considered your family
trusted advisors.

This is where it gets tricky
because it is rare
in all the alternates
to a find a place
where your bloodline is respected
or even recognized.
It takes work
to find a place
in all the planes of existence
where your people make something of themselves
dynastically.

Even rarer
sifting through realities
surfing through possible pasts
and futures
and universes where the absurd took root
is there a site
that can be seen
where your family becomes royalty
and you become king-god-emperor
particularly because of the monotheistic bent in your Jewish genes.

Still
there is a place
somewhere in the omniverse
where you are the ideal
by which all others are judged.
It is in that place
that you can look at me pityingly
and offer me your polite condolences.

We are not
just now
in that particular strained reality.
We are not living
where you are a ruler
where you have any right to judge.

Instead
we are in a world
where you are you
and I
have no reason
at all
to swallow your ridiculous condescensions
for even an instant.

You took her to a classy place
a sophisticated place
a quiet place
because you had something important you needed to tell her
and you didn’t want
to make a scene.

That is a move with some risk:
if it works
then all is well
but if it fails
and she does make a scene
possibly because she doesn’t like to feel
at all manipulated
then it is likely to be a grand mal
– in a figurative sense.

It is likely
that there will be screams
and broken glasses
and bloodied waitstaff
and torn cummerbunds
and feelings
and trachea.

There is a chance
that soups will stain
and plates shatter
and the Baked Alaska
will land below the tablecloth
and the Jewel Box Bistro
after the Fire Department vacates
will have to close for the season
and not accept any of your future reservations
theoretically.

Is that how it went for you?

If you weren’t so sleep deprived
if you hadn’t been so hungover
if your eyes were less blinded
by that blazing dawn
if the calculator app hadn’t so mysteriously frozen
if you’d been able to remember the lyrics to that tune from that show
if your health wasn’t so impaired
and the ice cream hadn’t melted
and the squirrels had a much diminished thirst,
none of this would have happened
which may offer some comfort.

Does it?

There is something
you are supposed to be doing
and an itch inside your soul
reminding you
but no clear clue
as to what it is
that you need to do.

So you sit
and you wait
in an uneasy chair
for memory to find you
and when that gets old
you go about your day
cleaning fishes,
shining clocks,
pretending there is not something important
just out of reach
just out of view
that you need to see.

And when that gets old
you play mnemonic games
to arrive at this secret:
just where were you
when you forgot the thing
that you forgot?
Can you remember?
You cannot.

Eventually, exhausted,
you give up
on your quest
of internal data recovery
– really –
and get back into the rhythm of your life
and do what needs to be done
and then
almost accidentally,
you are reminded:

“Forget her.”
That’s it.
Forget her,
which,
you chuckle,
you’d been able to do
until you remembered.

In a foreign land
that you once loved
I sit near birds and above squirrels
and think
how you might have liked it here
but would not have bothered coming
because of the stairs.
I suspect
you’d not be up at such an hour
to experience the serenity
the sounds of the town
or the light dusting of dew.

You would never have been here
in this place
and this hour
with me
and still
here and now
I think of you.
I’m glad you’re with me
in at least some way.

Happy Father’s Day,
dead dad.
I hope you can treasure your peace
as much as I am mine.

No matter what it is
you want to do
however hard or difficult
or any other synonym you can come up with
you can’t do it if you try.

If you believe
and have faith
and work steadily towards your goal
and every day
seek to improve
in honor of the achievement you seek
there is no way
you will be able to succeed.

Anything you put your mind to
is unobtainable.
Whatever you aim for
is out of reach.
Any way you go for it
will fail.
There is no future for you
and what you’re looking for.
All efforts you hope to complete
will not.

Be aware
that if you give it your all
you will come to nothing
or more
…but probably less.

It’s Saturday
and you’ve got the weekend off
and there’s nothing
that is expected of you.
Make the most of your freedom.
Take advantage of the day.
Don’t fuck this up.

You can do what you want.
You can meet new people,
become new people;
eat at new restaurants
or rob them.
You dance or sleep
or exercise or paint the town.
You can date.
You can die.
You can deliver unto others
exactly what they deserve.

This day
is the land of opportunity
and you have a Welcome mat
and a key to its finest city.
It’s Saturday. Relax.
Just don’t fuck it up.

Eleanor rode the coast
with nothing but a service revolver
and her girlfriend
by her side.
No one stopped her.
No one cared.

They raced the coast
clad in Buick
and bucked all social trends.
Eleanor
and her lover
were safe
for a month
on the road
back in the day.

Today?