jonberger

In retrospect
I see what I should have done.
You gave me the perfect opportunity
to beg your forgiveness
like in the greatest romances of the twentieth century
via that century’s greatest memetic constructs:
the big gesture.

I didn’t realize.
I didn’t understand.
I didn’t see the big picture
of how the big gesture
could have gotten me out of big trouble
– big time!

I messed up
– again –
I see that now.
I get it.
I had a chance to fix it all
if I knew how to take it.
Maybe this will help me
know what to do next time.

Seventeen hours ago you said you loved me.
Seventeen hours ago you thought I was great.
Seventeen hours ago there was a future
with no regrets
and miles of good intentions up ahead.
Seventeen hours suddenly seems
like a fucking long time.

It’s amazing what can change
with just the downing of one sun
and a single sleep period.
Yesterday seems
to have little to do with today
and I have little to do with who I was before.

I don’t know who I am anymore
Maybe I will
in another seventeen hours.

There is nothing wrong tonight
no tense questions.
no complaints.
The words aren’t getting more clipped
nor the silences longer.
Everything is perfectly all right.

Not one argument has occurred.
No one has thrown a blow
or cast a stone
or narrowly missed getting hit by hatchet
hastily hurled down the hall.
No bad mojo
or thick atmosphere
or raised voices can be found.
Things are going swimmingly.

I am fine.
He is fine.
She is fine
and there is nothing here to see
or listen to
or worry about.
It’s all
all right
and will continue to be
for the foreseeable future.

Of course
I can’t foresee the future.
Can you?

I was just about to write
song for the dumped
despite the fact
that someone beat me to it
by twenty years.
I am no longer creative.
I am no longer original.
I feel stupid, contagious
thick as a brick.

I’m not half the man I used to be
just crying, wishing, hoping
that my art will get back to me.
It don’t come easy.
I’m trapped.
I am losing steam
higher, higher
and it ain’t ever gonna stop!

This is what I am now:
bending to whatever inspiration
is around me,
constantly folding under pressure.

It’s just not fair.

There is no lint.
I smell of soap.
I have drained myself of all excessive fluids
and thoughts
And…
I am not yet ready for tonight.

I must learn a new language
and floss my toes
and buy those new shoulder garters
to keep my shirtsleeves in place.
There are a thousand scenarios
I need to reenact in advance
to ensure my abilities this evening.
I am still not ready
I am unprepared.

Eventually
my time will run out
and there will be no more planning or rehearsing
and I will have to go
out
and see where this evening takes us.

This cartoon I saw
when I was eight
showed this guy losing his toupee
and then crying in spilt milk
(or something like that).
I swore, later on,
in the bathroom while doing some serious thinking
that if I ever lost my hair
I wouldn’t try to hide it
disguise it
or pretend it way anything other than
the bald truth.

I didn’t think it through
or remember how little hair my dad had
at the time.
and so, twenty years later
when I approached the inevitable
and saw my own scalp showing up,
I remembered my earlier oath
and, with a sigh,
took out the razor
and shaved it all
because otherwise
I would have made a liar
out of eight year old me.

Honesty is very important
perhaps because of some betrayal
in the womb
when mom promised me cookies and cake
for all of my days.
If I make a plan
or provide a promise
or use a word
rest assured
it was well-considered
and I will strive
to stick by it
lest I prove myself
anything less than consistent.

Keep this in mind
when you ask me if I love you
or invite me to a party next month
or wonder if we can hang in an hour.
I have to be careful
before I make a decision.
Before I speak,
I have to be sure.

It’s been a long winter
a dark period of push and pull
give and take
eat or be eaten.

I defended your seat
against many a taker.
So many came forward
trying to pull your chair away from me
seeking to split us apart
but I remained vigilant
and protected our territory
from all the invaders.

It was hard work
stressful, but I did it.
I kept our area pristine
in your absence
while you went off to pee.

I didn’t complain
as I explained to patron after patron
that you’d be back in a moment
even as moments became hours,
months of calm rigidity against any and all
who’d arrive.

And now you’re back
and can reclaim your seat
and you can watch my space
while I go to the bathroom.

What?
Why not?

What you said?
What you did?
You don’t even know
I’ll bet
that with those words
you did what hurricanes and floods could not.
Those four simple sentences
were enough
to destroy our home.

I am desolate.
I feel abandoned.
I know I am alone
even with you here
beside me.
I will never go back to that place
that you demolished
with a mutter and laugh.

From now on,
I am homeless
and bereft
and crushed
and you did it
with little effort
and no thought.

You didn’t realize
did you
that you had orchestrated our end
with such ease?
Did you understand
that after what you did
we would be through?

I’m speechless.
Let me rephrase that:
I don’t know what to say
but somehow
I’ll power through.

After all this time
in this first show together
since we broke up
you have no new material?
Nothing interesting has happened to you?
Nothing worth writing about?

I’m not sure I understand.
How could you continue to draw a blank
after these five weeks apart?
How could our division
do nothing to inspire you?

I don’t get it.
I thought we meant something
to each other.
I know what you meant to me
– you just heard me drone on about it
for forty five minutes.
How is it
that you could think of nothing new
to say about me?

For our first show together
since we broke up
I feel I should warn you
that there’s some new material
that you might not yet have heard.

I hope you like it
– I don’t know, though.
You may recognize some incidents
or descriptions
that could strike you
as slightly familiar.

All purely coincidental,
I promise.
None of the new material
is about you
– not exactly.

I must admit,
though,
I have felt somewhat inspired lately
and honest
and raw.
I think
what you’ll hear
at our first show together
since the breakup
some of the best work I’ve done
in quite some time.

But then
I’m a bit biased.
You used to be, too
but now
I don’t know.
We’ll see
at the show.