jonberger

What will he do next?
After that last album
was such a phenomenal success
with both the critics
and the customers
how will he follow it?

He can’t do the same thing
because then he’d be resting on his laurels
but if he deviates too substantially
why should anyone care?
Should he retire
dropping out on this high note
or change gears
and hide his identity
within another?

He could fake his death
or change mediums
or go into sports
or politics.
He could forget about his success this time
and just see what the next best thing
will be.

He could do anything
I guess
but everybody’s talking.
Everyone wonders:
what will he do next?

My great grandfather
every day of his life
walked up the stairs
to his seventh floor apartment
without a word of complaint.

It was a while back
when men were men
and elevators hadn’t been invented yet
or at least
were not provided
in his building.

He didn’t seem to mind
for as I said
men were men
and brave and strong
and did things that ten of today’s men
could barely imagine.

He worked a full hard day
in the mines
and then in the yours
and came home
to climb the stairs
simply to get home
have dinner
and go to bed.

He worked seven days a week
and did this every day of his life
until he died of a heart attack
at twenty three.
He was a sperm donor.

I get hired for jobs
that I advise my employer against.
“Are you sure you need me,”
I say,
“and not a lesser paid drone
who will do the job without asking questions?”

I want to make sure
they know what they’re getting into
when bringing me on.
I will question assignments
and authority
and push limits and lunch hours
and stretch deadlines
as well as expected accomplishments.
I am not an everyday employee.

I want to make sure
the boss understands this
before I start.
They rarely do.
They assume
it is hyperbole
that I speak
and not something truly true.

I want no surprises
before Day One
but there always are
and often
there is no Day Two.
Perhaps I should have a better process
or look for a different kind of job.

Yes, in fact,
I do
and frankly,
I resent the implication.
I do have real human feelings
just like a real human boy
and your suggestion to the contrary
hurts those human feelings
and makes me want to crush your skull
like a very inhuman crabapple.

I breathe.
I smell.
I dance and I act out sometimes.
I’m sorry I’m not as emotional as you
or express it the same way
but I get sensitive around this stuff
and
and you’re making me angry.
Don’t do that.
Don’t make me flustered and embarrassed
and angry.
You won’t like it
I won’t like it
and my other personalities won’t like it.

What?
Oh, sure.
I have other personalities
and not all of them are entirely human…

The Mister Softee composer just died
fifty five years after giving birth
to his greatest creation
(though his children
might have something else to say).

He wrote the radio jingle
that has accompanied hundreds of
ice cream trucks
across the lands.
The song plagues the lactose intolerant
and the fat
and brings all other boys and girls
to the yard.

Though Les Waas is dead
there is no sign that the song will stop
anytime soon.
We may never know
when that long national nightmare
will end.

Give me all the cliches.
Use whatever language
is necessary
to make this go away.
Provide the language of comfort
and help me take this all in.

All the mitigating
justifying
technically accurate but inherently misleading words
you can find
would be appreciated.
Say things
to make it better.

Just tell me
it’s all gonna be all right.
I may believe it.

You said
I would miss this someday
and I said
Sure. Of course.
I will definitely miss you
tickling me
when I’m in the middle
of the best Tetris game of my life.
I will think back fondly
on the lack of control
when you held me down
keeping me from more important activities.
Clearly
these things that seem to annoy me so
like you making me near piss myself
are in fact activities that I will sorely remember
as things I lost
when you’re gone.

I’m not going anywhere
you said
then
and I’m not gonna miss any of this
I replied.

You always knew how to push my buttons.
You always knew how to get my goat.
You always knew
how to make my most serious thoughts silly
even years later
when I recall the silly things you said
and realized they were all right.

I’ll regret this later
I’m sure, but
I wanted to hear your voice.
I wanted to know how you’re doing.
I wanted to see your spirit
again.

This won’t go well.
It never does.
When I succumb to these addictions
I always feel worse about myself
at the end.
I hurt
and I’m embarrassed
by the significance of my constantly
drawing from the same wells
which have poisoned me
every previous time.

I’ll get ashamed
like always
and I know all of this is coming.
I know how I’ll feel later
but for now
I just need to hear you.
Call me back
please.

When you left
I was so angry
so frustrated
that you weren’t brave enough to stay
to fight
to combat your injustice and win.
You just fled
a thief in the dark
and everybody
could make whatever lesson out of you
that they wanted to.

I wished you
had the courage of your convictions
to remain with me
where I could have helped
keep your demons at bay
and claim victory
from the grasp of insane odds.
I knew we could do it
if you’d only stuck around.

But you didn’t
and I proved no braver than you.
I could have joined you
been your boon companion
in your further adventures
but I was as much afraid as you
– more.

Knowing what you faced at home
you were willing to dare the unknown
while I
was unable to consider it.
You faced demons
I failed to imagine
and I think that was really why
I was so angry
so frustrated
so furious at you for leaving:
You presented my fear
in stark relief against
your willingness
to approach anything new.
You were the one
and you were gone.

Damn you.
Be safe.
I miss you.

You don’t love me now
but you will.
I can see the day
where you realize the error of your ways
and admit that I’ve been the one for you
all along.

I will wait.
I will be patient
I will be here
in the shadows
until the light bulb goes off
and you see the truth.

It may be a long while
but I can handle it.
Until then…