jonberger

You have something to tell me
I think
something that you want to get off your chest.
I suspect you want to present to me
a change of conditions
a difference of opinion
an explanation of service changes.

You’ve been beating around the bush
talking behind my back
speaking out both sides of your mouth.
There’s an explanation you have to give
a fight you want to have
an ultimatum you need to provide.

I can tell what’s coming.
I’m reading your signals.
I’ve got a clue about the mystery
that you’re ready to decipher.

It’s time.
You’re ready
I’m ready
there’s a fight we’re scheduled to complete
and I’m kind of ready to get started.
I think you have something to tell me
don’t you?

If you seek to speak to me
on the day of a show
be well aware
that I may not be at my best.
I will be getting into the zone
silently prepping, plotting
planning out just what will happen
and when and where.

I may be absent.
I may seem distracted.
I may listen less well than I usually do
or more in my own head
which may be some kind of accomplishment
considering how much in my head I am
on the norm
but
please allow me
these idiosyncrasies.

Understand
it is only the workings
of the genius
that you sought to engage
in the first place.
This is my process.
This is my way.

In the day of the show
I might be a bit rude
but it is all
in the service
of the art
the performance.

You understand
don’t you?
Excellent.
So let me tell you
the good news
about this upcoming seven-year residency.

Hey: change of plans.
I know we agreed to get together
this morning
for coffee
in Huntington at Cronut Palace
an hour ago
– shoot
I didn’t realize the time –
but I overslept
and I’d like to reschedule.

Oh! They won’t seat you until I arrive?
You’ve been there how long?
Sorry
but really
you can’t pin this on me.
When we made the plans
last night
I was a different Jon.
I was optimistic.
I was happy.
I was drunk.

Yesterday Jon was ready for anything
the day offered
but he had not actually seen the day.
He was not prepared.
He was blind.
You can blame stupid Yesterday Jon
for the state of today
but not me.
I wasn’t there.

I’m Today Jon.
Pleased to meet you.
So
let us reschedule.
How does eight AM sound for you tomorrow?
Of COURSE I’ll be there.
I promise.

If we’re not talking anymore
then there are some things I’d like to tell you
things I really need to get off my chest.
You never got my jokes.
You didn’t tell me I was pretty enough.
You could have avoided phubbing me
sniping at me
calling me fat.

You smelled funny
a lot more than I did
and I, like,
smell funny a lot.

You’re like a sieve for love
whatever anybody can pour out
you are willing to take in
and then just drain out
freely
whatever you gained
so no one else can have It.
That seemed charming at first
– not anymore.

I wish you told me it was over
when it was over.
Even a little bit after
would have been a kindness.
I understand.
I see it now.
I get what you haven’t been saying.
It’s just
I’d like to have talked
before we stopped talking
just so I’d know.

You chose poorly.
You chose unwell.
You had better options:
you could’ve been with the doctor
a lawyer – Indian chiefs and indian chefs both sought your hand!

You had all of the capitals
offering you housing
and jobs and power
– all to please you.
You had recitals
and speaking tours
and plays and poems to write
and concerts and interviews and experiments to conduct
and

God, what couldn’t you be doing?

Your youth
your strength
your will and wit
left you with nothing but opportunities to consider.
You had a wealth of ways
to win your wealth
but
you chose none of them.

You picked a man
a town
a chance
that had so little likelihood of panning out.
You took a job beneath you
because you don’t make the kinds of judgements
the lesser mortals make.

You chose a low life.
Why would you ever choose so poorly?

You would hate it here
in this industrial neighborhood
with the screeching trucks
screaming workers
and whistling pipes.

The fifth and insects resting in the kitchen
copulating with no fear of reprisal
and the neighbors bopping in
at all hours
asking favors and interrupting quiet conversations.

The heat is bad.
The water is cold.
The trains are far
and the street life undeterred.
This is a lousy place to lay your head,
this hood I call home
and I wouldn’t wish it on another.

This is not where I hoped to be
at this point in my life
but
I wonder
would you like to stay
for a little while?

It was foolish.
I was frightened.
I should never have left
such important words
escape my fingers
into my phone
out through a text
for you to read.

So few letters,
with so much meaning.

Twenty five hours
those ten characters have sat
in ether
waiting
unanswered
and every moment
that they wait,
those characters are turning
transforming
into other words
with other meanings
so different
from the original.

The longer
this text remains unreciprocated
the more
it’s meaning is curled
twisted
revised.
Soon
all
significance will be gone
and the message will prove to mean
something else again
and fright
shall never enter the equation again.

Being myself hasn’t worked
nor has being sweet.
Kindness and generosity and wit
have done me no good
nor jealousy or prayer.

So I have worn the muscle T
I’ve shaved my head
I have grown the van dyke you complemented on Michael.
I am exercising.
I am becoming another.

I am doing what I can
as I can
to become the person
you would like me to be.
I am trying.
I am striving.
I am working
to earn your love.

How long will it take
for me to accomplish that goal
to arrive at that desired peak
to become the man that you deserve?
And after I win your favor
how long will it take
for me to earn my own?

You don’t have to prove anything to me.
There’s no need for you
to try to earn my trust.
I don’t trust you
but
I don’t trust anyone
and that doesn’t have much to do with you
and after all
I’ve done nothing trustworthy for you, either.

For now
Let us simply circle one another
hoping for honesty
or truth
or security or whatever watchword
we may seek.
Mine is intimacy.
You needn’t tell me yours.

I will do what I can
to remain true to myself
while showing what I can eventually be
for you.
You?
Just be yourself
and that will be enough.
Trust me.

I figured it out.
The song
– the one that was playing in high school
on the radio
in the auditorium
when you handed me an earbud
and we both listened
slowly grooving
and we both said that we loved the track
at the same moment
and you said “jinx” first
and you wouldn’t let me speak
until I bought you a New Coke
but they had just stopped making it
and you were a hardass about the rules of “jinx”
and laughed while I silently begged you to set me free?

Good times…

The track didn’t have a name listed
or a band or any other info
and I always wondered about that song
so I did a little research
and I put it together
and I just figured it out.

It was “Blinded by the Light,”
by Springsteen.
A live version, though,
not the original
which
maybe
you knew,
being such a Boss fan.

Anyway,
it’s been a while.
If
the next time you come to town
you could take the jinx off me
I’d really appreciate it.