jonberger

I saw
in this show called Hamilton
that the son of the eponymous hero
tried to live up to his father’s
incredible legacy and
there was a certain bit of anxiety
in the attempt.
It didn’t end up well for Philip
I can tell you that.

It is difficult
to have an impressive parent.
There is so much to live up to
or rebel against.

Even ignoring your pater’s accomplishments
would be quite a feat.
But when you try to follow in his footsteps?
When you
as a kid
wish to become akin
to your procreator,
how can you possibly succeed?

How can you pace your parent
let alone outclass?
Even the competition is shameful
when your father
– or, say, mother –
is a good person
a hero.

It’s a tough row to hoe.
I don’t envy you.
Good luck with that.

The song that you dedicated to me?
I didn’t understand it.
It sounded nice
I guess
but I just couldn’t pay attention
to the rhymes
and the extended notes
made it pretty hard
to understand the lyrics at all.

I liked how I felt
when I listened to you.
It made me think
about scuba diving
and reminded me
of a really misshapen squid
I saw once in Jamaica.
It was pretty hard to discern its dimensions.

I liked how you experimented with your playing.
You’re really pushing boundaries.
I hope you dedicate more songs to me
in the future
and I’ll look forward
to you playing them.

My bike
lonely
rests beneath a sign reading
No Parking Midnight to Three
across from my apartment
(it is all right.
It’s currently past Four).

It is raining out
and my bike has nothing to do
nowhere to go
at this wretched
past-time hour.
She sits
riderless
beneath the sign
awaiting someone
willing to take her out
get her wet and dirty
straining her capacities
thumbing her gears
pressing her breaks
wearing her down
riding her around
before returning her
to her post
locking her back up
and leaving her alone
for the rest of the sodden night.

She waits for someone
who is not me
for I won’t go outside
on such a moist pre-morning.
I should be snoring myself
I realize
inside
behind drafty window
safe
alone.

Angela grimaces.
Angela’s enraged.
Angela argues easily,
is available to aggravate almost any situation.
Angela is quick to anger.
Angela is quick to extinguish alternate approaches.

Angela gets ugly
often.
Angela abhors artifice
and attacks insincerity
again and again
everywhere she observes it.

Angela is extraordinary.
Angela is obstinate.
Angela avoids affectation
and appreciates earthiness.
Angela is everything
on occasion
and yet,
equally often,
is entirely absent from existence.
All and aught
Angela is.

Angela
is.

They say
because this is a Leap Year
that April Fools’ Day
should be celebrated on April 2
but I think
rather
it should be celebrated
– if pranks can be celebrated at all –
on March 31.

Can we?
Can we all just agree
that the pranks were done
yesterday?
And can we further agree
that that agreement
is not in itself
a prank?

I do not like to be tricked
you see.
I do not like it at all.

There was an event
I really wanted to go to
so – proactive –
I put the event in my calendar.
I didn’t mention the important connections
or the showgirls in attendance.
I trusted myself
to remember all that.

I wrote up all the relevant details
in my calendar
and rested
knowing full well
that memory
was just a datebook away.

But I placed the event on April first
which should have been a clue
as to the great prank
I was playing on me.
When I looked for the event details today
I saw how all the connections connected
and the showgirls showed up
yesterday.

Good one, Jon.
I really got you
– I mean me –
I mean Jon.
I missed my event
but at least I have
all of these laughs
for all the rest of my days.

I lied to you, like,
all the time
Even on things that mattered
not a bit.
I lied about the amount of bread in the fridge.
I told you I kept bread in the fridge
to keep it fresh
when really it was to keep it away from bugs.
I lied to you about everything.

Even that was a lie.
I said “good morning” to you occasionally
and that was true.
I said I loved you, and
though I might not have always felt love for you
in the instant,
the fact that I had loved you
was never really in doubt.
I’m not even consistent in my deceit.

But, through it all,
I tried to be
in my own way
true to you.
Almost all of my lies
were in the service of keeping you happy
or at least
in the service of keeping you liking me.

Even now
this last minute stab of honesty
is in that same service
and the hopes that
you’ll allow me to serve you a bit longer.

So?
Did it work?
Will you upset the apple cart
or
are you willing
to let sleeping dogs lie?

You’ve got something
right now
today
that is a blessing unparalleled.
You are about to experience something amazing
something that kings, popes,
superstars, celebrities and big businessmen alike
would no doubt trade with you
if they could afford it.

They cannot.
You are about to enter into joy.
You are about to witness glory.
You are about to come into something
so truly special
when I place these headphones on your head
and start to play Abbey Road.

This is your first time
and no one could buy that from you.
This is yours alone
and I am so glad
that I could provide it.
You’re welcome.

This street stinks.
Garbage hasn’t been picked up in days
and the weather’s taken a turn.
It’s different downtown
I’ll bet
but I haven’t left the neighborhood in days.

All I’ve seen is outside my window
and that view is slowly changing
from sidewalk and street
to growing piles of trash.
Even when I don’t look
I know.
The street stinks.

Sanitation hasn’t made an appearance
but every other truck
under the sun
has arrived at every hour
under the sun
the moon
the stars and the smog.
Between the sounds and smells,
sleep is still far away.

I’m not normally one to complain
but this season
these days
it’s just that, well,
everything stinks.