jonberger

When Stevie F told me
how my people had killed Jesus
I beat the crap out of him.
Then I asked my father about it
and learned about antisemitism.

When I was waiting for a rock show to begin
at the Sidewalk Cafe
over there on Avenue A
John K came up to me
and said David had tried to jew him
out of the price they’d agreed upon.
I had heard of the expression
but never actually experienced it
in action.
I was surprised
having always thought that K was a Jewish name
but I kept quiet.
I didn’t need to beat John up.
He did that to himself
all too much.

Every couple of years
I get another dose of this sort of hate
never expressed towards me
and never that emphatic.
New York City
just might not be
too healthy for the antisemite
but
that’s not my cross to bear.

It HAS been a while
hasn’t it?
It’s good to see you.
We should do it again – sooner.
I’m sorry
how we drifted apart.

I guess it had to go that way.
You had secrets that couldn’t be shared
and I had questions that had to be answered.
The tensions between
were obvious.

Our needs
were plates
moving away from each other
blowing apart like the little boats
in the park that time.
You remember?

We could go there again
if you wanted.
No?
Hm.
Why?

No, I get it.
It’s been a hard couple of days
with the homework
and the game
and the tests
and your parents insisting you get a job
while those videos are not gonna watch themselves.

You’ve got priorities
that are inconsistent
with those in charge of you.
It sucks.
Even if they have your best interests in mind
You just want to live.

But there’s a future to consider.
You need to make something of yourself.
Anything, really.

The variety of the universe is vast
but not so vast
that you’ll be able to achieve your goals
without effort.
Privileged as you may be
it’s not gonna happen
if you don’t do the work.

If you sit around
waiting for opportunity
to fly into your bedroom
and kiss you,
you are not likely
to get kissed very often.

Oh, you’ve gotten plenty of kisses
at those Lipstick Parties.
I get it.
Cool.

It was here a few minutes ago:
A solution.
An explanation.
A rationale for everything
that happened between us
– all of us –
a fix that would justify the universe
as it stands
and provide a process to improve
everything that it preceded.

It was in grasp.
It was on the tip of my tongue,
so close I could have licked it
had I done any of those cunnilingus exercises.
It was right here
and then
you just snapped at me
getting my attention
and I lost it.

I lost it all.

We could be living in paradise
from the information that I just abandoned.
This is in your head.
Thanks a lot, Mom.

So the experiment didn’t work?
Yeh, I thought that might happen.
What were the odds
of sewer crocs coming up
to your hallway
to eat all your spoiled meat?
Now it’s even more spoilt.
Who’s gonna clean up that mess?
Me?
How am I responsible?

It was your fault for listening to me.
You’re to blame for taking my advice.
It’s like
fooled once, shame on you
second time, blame to me?
Well, I’ve fooled you a couple dozen times.
Maybe your parents owe you something.
Not me, though.
It’s on you for trusting me.
I’m an idiot.

And I don’t know if you’re more of one
but I feel pretty sure
for considering what I have to say
you’re a fool, too.

So
all that spoilt meat
have you tried frying it?
I mean
what’s the worst that could happen?

Look at this guy
this sweaty pathetic boy.
What harm can it do?
Why not help a brother out?
Give the guy a gig.

He probably has some friends
who might come out to see him
if he asks really nicely.
He probably owes people money
and can tell them he’ll pay ’em back
at the gig.
That could work…

I mean, come on.
The guy clearly has so little to live for.
He’s gonna work hard to get folks to come out.
I mean HARD.
What else is he gonna do with his days,
with so little hair on his head
and so much everywhere else?
Who’d hire him?
Who’d date him?

Help him out.
Think of it as community service.
Give ‘im a gig.

There’s a secret cheat code
to the universe
or, at least,
America.
I know there is.
I see evidence everywhere.

Others are so effortless
in their success.
Others know how to make money
how to make love
how to make do with dissatisfaction
and make something else out of it.

They’re not smarter than me
or nicer than me
or more righteous
or handsome
or anything else I can understand
but they have the world handed to them.
I get nothing
having to dig ditches with a clay spoon
while they slurp soup from silver.

It’s the code.
It’s the masons.
It’s the dice god rolls
or die cast by fate at birth.
There has to be some explanation
as to why their lives
are like that
while my life is doomed
to be this.

I’m sorry
but it’s not going to happen
today.
Try as you might
anticipate and plan
you’re still not dying of anything.
Not in the short term
at least.

I have no doubt in another hundred years
you’ll be buried with the rest of us
and
if you’re lucky
it will be an ugly
bitter and divisive fight with mortality
for you.
Then you’ll have earned your demise.
You’ll have been as sick as you think.

But
there’s no evidence
of what you’ll be fighting
not that this doctor can see.

Keep going, though.
Keep searching
hunting, uncovering.
Someday you will find that thing
which will threaten you
and might someday kill you.
With enough will
you will find your enemy
and you will battle it
and you will lose.

I have faith in you.
Some day soon
with enough work
you’ll be dead yet.

It is hot.
I am itchy.
I am alone
in this pit I call home
wondering how I’ll get through
this night.

I have somewhere to go tomorrow
and there is no sleep to be had
in this bed.

Please Jesus, or Lucifer,
or Silly Rabbit,
if you let me sleep
let me rest
Let me get out of my own head
let me escape black thoughts
until darkness goes.
Do this
and I will
I will think of something
to be able to offer you.
Currently, my brain isn’t working right.
I can’t come up with something.
But with half a night’s sleep,
Silly Rabbit,
I’ll turn you Trix like you wouldn’t believe!

I need to rest.
I need to get comfortable.
Maybe if
maybe if I drop some ice cubes
under the sheets
things will get better.
Maybe I can sleep on the roof
if I can get past
the crawly things on the stairs.

Perhaps
Perhaps I can just will myself to sleep.
Wouldn’t it be funny if that worked?
I could have done that HOURS ago.
Ha.
Ha ha ha.

Oh, Silly Rabbi,
help me!

Abort. Abort!
The center can’t hold.
The plan is collapsing.
We’re gonna blow any minute.
It’s over, Johnny;
we gotta go!

The Big Score’ll have to wait
until another day
if we can make it out
of this one.
We need to do something brilliant
to make our escape:
you jump in the baby carriage
and I’ll pretend I’m a ferret.

No one will suspect a thing.
We can meet back at the place.
You know the one.
Wait til they’ve left us alone
for eight hours.
No need to bring the heat.
It didn’t work this time, Johnny,
but have faith in the future.
We’ll get there
whether we want to or not.

For now, though
let’s GO!