jonberger

You could love me for my wealth
my ruddy health
my pretty eyeshow the sun shines off my head in the afternoon sun.
You could love me for my wit
or my funny bits
or how I don’t give a shit
about your mother’s religion.
You could love
how I wouldn’t hurt a pigeon
but if a friend’s scarred
– a smidgen –
I’ll do what I can
to get justice done.
You could love how I’m fun.

You could love me for paying for dinner
or love me for lying about your waist.
You love me me for historical reasons
or etymological ones
or
because I have bad taste.

You could love me for a thousand reasons
and my mom could give you another score.
I hope you pick at least one of them,
and give my heart a chance to soar
for if I know you’ve found some way to make me one you can’t ignore
then I will have the rationale to truly love you all the more.

Through this trial separation
of which I’ve been found guilty
I know we’ve come to many decisions
about how to split the property
and the friends
and the artful way
we divided the dog-walking schedule
was a thing indeed
But I think
we have yet to agree
on the dispensation of the expressions.

There are a variety
of turns of phrase
that I brought into the relationship
and you adopted as your own.
On this
the era of our demise
I would like my phrases back,
please.
Give me my language.

Let me have “It takes nine to know one”
and “Don’t call me Shirley”
and “General Disturbance, meet Major Damage.”
I let you use them,
but it’s time my sentences come back to me.
Yes, I did give them to you
but we’ve agreed to return
so much to one another,
this shouldn’t be a big deal.

Return my turns of phrase
and I believe
everything will have gone back
where they belong.
So
what sayest thou?

Why should I
at this point in time
choose to make you my priority?
What inspiration should fuel me
in putting your needs
at the fore?

What have you offered me
these last few months
that should leave me thinking
there is reason to go forward
with an us?
Why should I still believe
there is such a thing
as an us?

I want to.
I want to have something
to believe in
and, as a Jew,
I am made to ask questions
to get answers
that can provide insight.
This is what my people have made me.
This is who I am.

Who are you?
Who are we?
What do we have
to go on for
and why?

Please don’t
let this happen.
Don’t force the issue
and make me be cruel to you.

There are so many things
that shouldn’t be said
that would explode
our uneasy equilibrium.
It’s a razor’s and she we walk
and I spend so much time
just balancing it.

What you’re considering
is going to leave us all
with bloody feet
or split in two
or dead or divorced
or something.

Don’t do it.
Don’t make this happen.
Don’t ask me
what that outfit does for your ass.

I’m sorry
and you’re probably right:
I haven’t been treating you
with the proper respect
not listening to your explanations
or taking your opinions seriously.

I know I should give you your due
and not treat you like a baby
which clearly
you are not.
It’s just
I’m so used to being independent
and not having to explain my decisions
and even being the only one to make decisions…
I’m trying to keep you in mind
I promise.

I always think I know best
and I’m working on it,
really.
So
I’m sorry

but
if I see you
playing with your supper again
I’m taking away all the worms.

I like to sit in the corner of the room
my back against the wall
so I have a view
of everything going on.

It lets me know
when my enemies approach
what my friends are bringing me
or when the waiter’s near.

I prefer to have that information
than have to constantly twist
turn and swerve
to be aware of those around me
prepared to move away
or keep safe space.

It is easier
I have found
to maintain a fortified position

Some days you get the golden goose,
some days, you just get goosed.
Some days
it seems
are better than others.

I’ve been looking for ways
to identify those days
early on
so I can simply skip them.
Just wake up
get see if my Crappy Sense is tingling
then go right back to bed.
So far
nothing.

Perhaps there is a lesson
in living through those losing hours.
Something about perseverance
and tenacity.

Fuck perseverance
and fuck tenacity.
I want the goose.

I don’t take ultimata well.
I hear them
but I don’t react to them
usually
– except in a scorched earth
kind of way.

I’d sooner destroy
all that you’d want to threaten
than be pushed into position.
I may regret it later
but that’s later, see?

So please didn’t threaten me
unless you mean
to take the threat to the bank
or the morgue
or the candy shoppe
for a lollipop
because I don’t want
to look over the smoking husk
of our relationship afterwards
and realize what I’d done.

Please
save us from that.

I parked my car on Sixth and C.
Please let me remember this.
It hasn’t been too easy
to easily recall
much information
these days.

But I sometimes remember movies
like Memento
where mnemonics were used
to keep things straight.

I’m afraid of needles
but have a crush on poetry
so I thought
I could write something,
some kind of rhyme
– if only I could rhyme.

If I did,
then I’d write some kind of line
something to keep me straight
some words that would keep me true.
Eighth and C,
ahead of me?
That’s not right…
Please let me remember
where I parked.

When you have ten minutes
use ten minutes.
Make the most
of the opportunities
made available to you.

Do not squander your chances.
Do not blow your break.
Who knows when inspiration may strike
so strike your own inspiration
(Strike like in bowling
not like in baseball.
Just so we’re clear.

But having brought up baseball,
make sure you don’t strike out
when you’re at the plate.
And when you break a plate
because you weren’t paying enough attention
at your job
with the plate maker’s union,
go on strike
which’ll give you time
to take ten minutes).

Where was I?
I got distracted by my own digression.
Ah…

Do not let yourself be distracted.
Follow your goals.
Stay loyal to their pursuit.
Do not strike off
on curious tangents.
Stay the course.
Use your moments well.