I dreamed of the old man
being shocked that I was in the bathroom.
Who the old man was
is a curious question.
I didn’t seem to belong in the house
and the old man did
or maybe he used to.
Maybe neither of us belonged there now
both interlopers
neither understanding
how to explain the other’s presence
in the place.
It was weird
but that’s not a particularly compelling assessment
in relationship to dreams
so I think I may now be about ready
to go back to sleep.
You want five? Five is fine. Five will work like a fine wine.
We can make it in and out. No muss, no fuss. No pain, no pout.
We’ll arrive just when you like. If you want, we’ll come by bike.
We are easy, can’t you see? There’s no problem. Disagree?
We’ll arrive at your discretion. It’s all simple; no dissension!
We just ask you make some space for our dear Uncle What’s His Face.
It’ll make no difference, he’s so small. You won’t mind, he’s no trouble at all.
To manage him, he’ll have Shirley. If it’s easier, we’ll come early.
Shirley? She’s his comfort tree. She’s less than four feet. Let her be.
She’ll hardly be in the way. Takes up no space. Has nothing to say.
We’ll need a ramp to roll her in. We’ll install it. Wires and tin.
Takes a few to stick to the floor. Maybe we’ll get there quarter to four.
All right, this is starting to gel! I think the plans are going well.
Looking forward to our meal. I hope you like we’re bringing veal.
Oh, yeah Uncle Face’s diet leaves him dining at the Hyatt.
Only they can feed him right. They’re dinner’s veal tomorrow night.
We’ve got enough for the whole table. We’re prepared, willing and able!
Don’t you worry, don’t you fret. This whole thing’s easy. Everything’s set.
We’ve got it covered. The whole thing’s good. You’ll have this meal in your neighborhood.
It’ll be live. There’ll be no jive. You’ll have your meal served right at five.
Trying the nonet for the first time
could prove harder than I now think:
it’s less syllables per line
so I’m shrinking each time
(syllabically).
Better start soon.
Wish me luck.
Okay…
Go!
Something in the fridge smells
and we cannot identify what it is.
We have sniffed at all the likeliest contenders,
looked at all the foods that could give off an odor
and just started picking things up
to see if they might issue a stench.
Nothing produced nothing
but opening the door releases something.
We haven’t figured it out yet.
We may have to go through a complete
process of elimination route.
Nothing else has worked so far.
If that doesn’t work,
we don’t know what will.
Maybe moving?
I prefer Reese’s Pieces
to Eminem.
It’s insane to compare the two, really.
Don’t call me a homophone!
The lesson I have learned recently
is that if you shave frequently
you don’t have to look your age.
Remove all the scraggly hair nonsense that keeps coming up
and you’ll seem somewhat younger.
Now whether it’s actually important to disguise your age?
That’s another question entirely.
The subjects that she was careful to never mention
the ones she knew were taboo
the things that could rip you apart
if she ever dared bring them up
– you bring them up.
Force her to discuss them.
Back her to the wall
and make her talk to you
about erectile dysfunction
and premature ejaculation.
All the verboten,
dredge it up.
That ought to do it.
I have often thought
life with you would be a breeze
now I have come to know
you would blow me away.
Things with you have never been easy
trying to know you.
Trying to know you.
Things would improve,
I have often thought.
I suspected that
once we reached our
accommodations
we would have an understanding, and
life with you would be a breeze.
It has not been so.
We have reached our accommodations.
We have understanding. I know you.
I know you.
Now I have come to know.
I never imagined the depths of you,
the possibilities, yet the inevitability within you.
It is so much to take in.
It is too much, were I to dare
you would blow me away.
The sound of the alarm no longer wakes me.
So excited now am I
to take on each new day
that I jump up
at the crack of eleven forty five
to get a start
and see what the day has for me.
Often, the answer to what the day has for me
is noon.
It is time, I am told, to forgive.
It is an assignment.
An exercise for the art.
I know it is good for me
good for relationships.
I know it allows healing to forgive,
that it only allows pain to fester
when you hold onto enmity,
and that forgiveness will let new growth begin.
I know I will be a better person by forgiving.
I know it’s an exercise,
and I know I can choose who I forgive.
It’s a theoretical fucking situation
but I do not forgive.
I hold on to my grudges.
I remember what people did.
I take note of the offenses made against me.
They are in my book
and they will be recalled
if there is ever an opportunity
to do anything about it.
I am not cruel
but I am not forgiving.
jonberger 