jonberger

When I told you
that I loved you
that you meant everything to me,
when I said I could never leave you
I spoke true
with every fiber of my being
at the time.

I’ve changed.
You have too
and maybe neither of us
changed for the better
but we’re not the same folks
in the same place
as when we made those vows
and oaths
and eternal utterances.

We were foolish
to expect such permanence
when we were so young.
We were stupid
and innocent
and believed
in the incredible.

In fact
I’m slightly incredulous
that you’re surprised
how this has gone down.
Surely you felt this coming
this transition
this realignment
of our souls?
You must have sensed
a change was coming.

No?
Maybe we both didn’t change
as much as I think.
Maybe
it was just me.

Bye.

A man
with ragged bags
and the smell of stale urine
– somehow worse than fresh urine –
began talking
in my general direction.
He may have been speaking to me
but I neglected to dislodge my headphones
so heard nothing.

He appeared excited.
He seemed friendly.
He continued talking
while I nodded
despite wearing substantial cans.
He seemed to think
I was drinking it all in
though i avoided all eye contact.

He left the train
after one station’s worth
of one way communication
but continued his enthusiastic dialog
even after exiting.

I think he was still talking
as the train left the station
though I assure you
I heard not a word.

Well, you did it this time, didn’t you?
Your suspicions
and theories of conspiracies
and ridiculous ideologies,
they left us in this situation
and there doesn’t seem to be any way out.

Why couldn’t you trust?
Where was your potential leap of faith?
What kept you
from using this opportunity
to become a better person
instead of sinking back
to the depths you are so familiar with?

What happened
that made you this way,
may I ask?
What thing fated you
to become a wreck
every time something good
threatened to come your way?
What is with you?

It doesn’t matter.
You can come back this way
and reach this same crisis point
with very little effort.
Will you screw up the same way
or find a new avenue of failure?

Should be interesting,
either way.

Dammit,
the author has got
to make up her mind.

In Stanza 203
she writes
"I do not believe what Stan says
for Stan is one letter away
from the Great Deceiver,"
but just a few pages before,
Stanza 187 says
"He is an honest one.
It is difficult
not to take everything Stan says
at face value."

These seem to be clearly contradictory messages
about Stan
who, granted
doesn’t prove to be that important
in the long run,
but still
if she can’t maintain consistency
about this one little character
what can we make of her greater plot points?

I’m not saying
that the author can’t be trusted
but maybe
she’s actually Satan herself.

Or maybe
I’ve got too much time on my hands
and too few degrees
under my belt.

Either way
I think the author should definitely write
more about boobs.

Elvis Presley performed
wearing a chai necklace
in the last days of his life.
Now he is dead
and that necklace
has gotta be worth a crapload.

God works in strange ways
for Jews
and other people.
Someday
I hope to be one of those things.

Charlotte Rae is ninety today.
She’s the kind of star that won’t go away.
If you see her on the street, go say "Hey,"
and if you’re of that sort, feel free to pray.

From Different Strokes, upon this plane
only she and Todd remain.
Of the cast, but two survive
though neither’s profile still does thrive.

My guess is Rae will leave us first
but most would think she’d had the worst
chance to stay amongst the living.
To her, the Angel of Death’s still giving.

Let Charlotte Rae remain with us
and not get hit by random bus
nor fall beneath any big fridges
lest the only Strokes-vivor be Todd Bridges.

For years
my father asked me
to lead Seder services
so that I could become more Jewy
and he could get a break.

He had me design the Passover prayer books
the script we would use
and I employed some of my favored skill sets
to do something clever, irreverent
and well-typed.
My favorite might be Haiku Haggadah.

After a certain number of years
he stopped asking me to lead.
Whether it was because he was so proud
of what I had done
or so disappointed
or that he was too tired
to have us host the event,
I don’t really know.
I have my theories
but that’s all they are.

I remember, though,
that for a while
my dad tried to bring me closer
to his God
by asking me to celebrate Him
in a way that was true to me.

Worship the earth.
Treasure the land
on which you stand.
Become one
with the natural world
all around you
if only in the parks
where nature is allowed to roam,
caged.

Respect the creatures
and the plants
and the moss and the microbes
and all the yucky stuff
that surrounds you
when you let it.
When it’s safe.

Follow the sun
and moon and stars
and keep your car top down
so you can appreciate the wind,
air rapidly rushing through hair
and rain and snow pelting you
along with insects atomized
while racing down roads.

Keep the earth with you
and love it
and appreciate it
in all its iterations
but
at day’s end
be sure to wash up
since the earth is so very dirty.

Thank you
for providing me
grist for my mill.
Thank you very much
for inspiring my next poem.

You inspire me
in many ways
on many days.
Some of them are good
and some
decidedly less so.
Sometimes
you get me fired up
and ready to take on the world
while other times
I’m just ready to take on you.

And still some other sometimes
I am ready to take you on
take you out
talk to you
all about the town.
I can’t tell you
the percentages
but you can probably do the math
based on the words you’ve heard.

I never want to let you know
in precisely what way
you’ve gotten me going
but rest assured
you certainly have
again
and trust me thusly:
you will know
just how
soon enough.

This?
This is not what I ordered.
This thing?
I don’t want it.

I chose something else entirely
when the options were before me.
I selected something
to my liking
that fit my tastes.
I picked something suitable
and this
is
not
it.

I want the choices I made
to be represented
in what I eventually receive.
I want to return this
and get that.
What? That.
That,
the thing I ordered.
The item I actually chose.

I deserve
to have my picks taken seriously.
I deserve to have the life that I want.
I deserve so much more
than this selection
and I do not believe
I have to take it.

I’d like to return this, please,
immediately.