I went to the desert and I brought a dessert
and Desi said he didn’t think I deserved it
so he desecrated it with his tongue.
Afterwards, when he was done,
he said it was delicious.
So I offered to off him, of course,
but he offhandedly outflanked me
and laughed his way out of the situation.
It was a sad end of the day
with no dessert for me.
If love was a recipe, throw passion in for spice.
If love was a recipe, throw passion in for spice.
If love was a recipe, add patience, neatly diced.
If love needed heating, the fire would be sex.
If love needed heating, the fire would be sex.
To get the right kind of heat, I better call my ex.
If love needs some meat, I think I could supply.
Yeah, if love needs some meat, I think I could supply.
and if you need some extra protein, who got a different kinda source? Well, I!
If love needs some tenderness, just marinate for a while.
If love needs some tenderness, just marinate for a while.
You’ve got the special sauce to keep it that’s provided to make any dish smile.
If love would require some double entendre,
Yes if love should require some double entendre,
it might be necessary to provide an entire buffet.
Before everything went to hell, the last place I did roam
was the former center of the world, where all roads lead, that’s Rome.
I went for less than two weeks. ‘Twas transformational.
It hadn’t been long since I’d traveled recreational (ly)
for a couple months before I’d been off to Belize.
The two trips you could not compare. You just would not believe.
One trip was a flick of the wrist. The other a full body dive.
The first trip was one I’d survive. The second was one where I thrived.
Rome was where I wanted to be. Rome is where I’ll return.
It is the location where my soul forever yearns.
(it is the location where my soul forever yearns)
I wrote about it faithfully. I dream about it still.
I long to be back in that land. It may be I always will.
I’ll only know until the point I reach the Appian Way
and then when I have stepped on it, I’ll be able to say.
My decision will be clear when I’ve returned to Rome
perhaps I will be able to call Italia my home.
Until then I will think of her, the City of Seven Hills
and have the videos I took, as well as all the stills.
To Rome I will return someday. It’s Rome where I wish to be.
It is surely the most amazingly glorious city!
I swear, fuck this kid.
I was given to this brat when he was born.
He teethed on my whiskered and sucked on my button eyes
for the first goddamn year of his life.
The amount of drool in my felt
is probably twice my weight in ounces.
It’s unlikely I’m still recognizable as a seal anymore,
for fuck’s sake.
Now that he’s aging out of stuffed animals,
he thinks he’s done with me?
With ME?
You don’t leave Silky, motherfucker,
Silky leaves you!
When I’m sick of this place,
I’m taking my earnings,
and I’m getting a bus inland
to maybe Salt Lake City
where I won’t have to worry about any further liquid concerns
from any further “children” in the future.
How you mewling brats get in the position to get whatever you want
is beyond me, let me just say!
There… there are no earnings?
You’re telling me I’ve done all this for free?
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Oh, Jesus Christ…
When I was a student,
lots of people went on hikes.
It was all the rage.
I was not that kind of a rager.
I was not much of a rager at all, really,
unless someone spoke ill of Chameleon Boy
from DC’s Superboy and the Legion of Super Heroes.
Then, just hold me back!
But clearly, I digress.
I didn’t hike.
Still, when some of my crew went up
to visit the campus last Fall, we went traipsing
in the back part of the campus,
a wooded area that GPS suggested had a special location.
We could not find it.
Two hours search couldn’t find it.
GPS was not proving very specific around there.
My sneakers were not the best for the terrain,
nor my temperament, but we all were stretching thing
by the end of our walk.
It was a lot.
I don’t think I’ll walk again,
when next I go to Hampshire College,
unless I get a sherpa.
Dawn breaks upon dark.
Sun cracks morn open like egg.
The heat comes later.
For now, bright yolk drips,
dribbling over city. Yuck!
Disgusting commute.
Nature in haiku?
City IN morning breakfast?
Tasteless choice, Berger!
She seemed so elegant as she pointed at the art
as she glided through the small space.
I stay in place, fear of breaking things,
buffalo-style.
While she took record of the place we
beheld,
I side-eyed to behold her.
I did what I could.
Grace seemed her byword,
though I wouldn’t hear her speak
for quite some time.
When I looked down,
I noticed she wore Adidas Sambas,
just like me.
However different we may be,
there was something that bonded us.
“Hardly a conversation starter,” I thought,
and continued to gaze,
contentedly viewing this work of art
among so many others.
You read something, or watch or listen
and you find the thing astonishing.
It is a glorious work of art
moving in some way you couldn’t have imagined.
You remember it always.
It is a powerful piece
that defines you in some way.
It stays on your shelf
but more,
it stays in your heart.
And then you return to it later
to review this beauty, this meaning
that touched you so,
and you say, “This?
This!? What the fuck, man?”
And you think on it, and wonder if it was the drugs,
or the lover you took that week,
or the friends from that semester,
or just how the stars aligned at the time.
Maybe you needed the art at that moment.
Maybe it was right for you then,
and not now.
Or maybe you’re wrong now
but it doesn’t haunt you anymore.
Weird, huh?
I wrote stupid shit
about an allegedly stupid chick
who then seemingly mixed me up
in a mired mess of switched internal crimes
that chimed time and again for a matter of minutes
that mostly made my head hurt. It would’ve been humiliating
had I shared the affair with anybody.
I did not.
It made no sense
and I made out like a wet blanket who couldn’t understand
what was going on.
I didn’t stop, look, listen long enough
to make head nor tails of what it was
so I just bowed out
and escaped it all.
It’s better that way.
It’s definitely better that way.
I have failed to create an account
so they tell me to go to support.
Support offers to help, asks for my account information.
“If I had that, I wouldn’t be here.”
“None of your wisecracks. Once we have your account info,
we’ll be able to help you.”
“I couldn’t create an account. That’s what I need help with.”
“Oh, we can’t help you with that.”
“If that’s what everyone needs help with, though,
you’ll never be able to help with anyone ever again.”
This wasn’t a machine I was talking to,
so it wasn’t going to stymie her forever,
but it was a long enough silence
for me to be able to say, “Goodbye.”
jonberger 