"She’s in love with the man she always wanted to be"
the song goes, but the song doesn’t end.
The song never ends.
The thought completes later, with a word that is never said.
"…come." she whispers, hoping this completes the ritual
but finds no change
no transformation.
She is the same.
She is always the same.
The song remains the same
despite the change
and things go on
as normal.
I was sitting in the Arista office for no good reason.
I mean, I knew a member of Arista,
but I wasn’t a member. I had no official justification for being there.
I certainly had no official justification
to kick someone else out of the clubhouse.
So though it was technically true
that Eddie Cheung had no business being there, either.
I had no right to be the one to tell him to go.
Pots and kettles and all that.
I could see why he would feel angry at me for embarrassing him.
Were I in his shoes, I’d have felt humiliated for being kicked out,
and probably sought revenge. I can’t say what I’d have done.
What Eddie did was follow me after school.
I was with a bunch of friends,
so it was pretty brave that he tapped me on the shoulder.
When I turned around, he punched me square in the face,
breaking my glasses in two.
I stood there shocked as he walked away.
He wasn’t a threatening kid. I’d have jumped on him,
but some other guy had suggested a day or two before
that Eddie Cheung was a black belt
and I thought maybe it was unwise to mess with him.
If I’d thought about it for a minute,
I would have asked why a black belt would have
a) lacked the restraint to attack me on a street corner
b) just punched me and not done something more… martially artistic.
Anyway, he attacked me after I’d given him shit.
Probably should have been the end of it.
Except I was angry at him for embarrassing me.
More, I was angry that my glasses were broken.
So I did the chickenshit thing and reported him to the school.
He agreed to pay me back for the glasses
and he never did,
which is probably just as well.
I shouldn’t have been the dick in that situation.
I just didn’t like the dude.
My mother’s continued survival is a blessing
that I take for granted.
I should not.
She’s already survived my father by four years
and promises to continue this trend for some time.
I spend good time with her
but I don’t know if I express how appreciative I am.
I certainly do not when she’s yelling at me
to slow down on the road.
Then, I wish her an early stroke
so her tongue stops wagging
– but those are isolated instants.
More frequently, I wish her well,
but I don’t know how much I say it.
Perhaps there’s a way to say it to her.
But that might be too much to expect
of a grown son.
Who can say?
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.
jonberger 