Time slowed.
Vision tunneled.
Air expelled
became charged
and blew all about you.
Lights dimmed
and focused on your form
while giving your eyes additional sparkle.
Birds circled
and clouds took form
and fanfares blew.
The world stopped
and the world changed
and the world became
something else
something other
something strange
when I first saw you.
This place…
Take a look around.
Take it in.
Take it with a grain of salt,
but this place used to be an outpost.
This place used to be the tunnel’s end.
This place
used to be unique
alone
inspired.
This place used to be
the only rock club
in a four block radius.
Now
you look around
and you see nothing but clubs:
rock clubs,
dance clubs,
zydeco clubs,
whatever.
But back in those years,
in the in-between days,
there was nothing in this neighborhood.
Nothing but abandoned lots
bodegas and the hopeless.
Things have changed
just a smidge.
That hi-rise being built
was a laundromat
and the bar you’re eyeing so sketchily
used to be a bar called Danger Room.
Everything around here was dangerous.
Not really, though.
Everything was safe
but everything looked bombed out
and that was the way we liked it.
Only the strong
or the knowing
or the daring came out this far.
Now, this is no longer a bastion,
no fort in the middle of the wilderness.
Now
this is the center
or it was
before this neighborhood got played out.
For a time
though
this was the center
and before that
this was the border.
This quest is eternal.
I’ve been looking for you
ever since we parted
all those years ago.
I didn’t even understand the internet then
but still I searched for you.
I Metacrawled and Alta Visited,
I jumped on the Dogpile
got Excited and screamed “Yahoo!”
I asked old friends who barely knew you
if they knew what happened to you.
I looked at alumni records
phone records
dental records
– I checked your old record store,
asking “have you seen her?”
but all I got in return
was the same old song.
I have no idea
if you’re dead or alive.
I’m spun all around
not knowing which was is up
in my seeking of you,
Jane.
I can’t seem to find you anywhere
assuming you even go under the name you used to.
But I’ll keep up the quest.
I will not give up
and someday
I’m sure
I’ll find you
Jane Smith
and when I do
it’ll be interesting.
When young
I had a guinea pig that
I grew to hate fairly quickly.
He made noises in the night
and smelled
and constantly insisted on being fed
and watered
and having his bedding changed.
I didn’t make my own bed;
why would I make his?
He lived in filth
(like a pig)
and was rude to his neighbors
(like a guinea)
and I found
soon
that I could not bear to share a room with him.
I hated that guinea pig
that I used to own
so very much
for so very long.
Finally
I gave it away
to people who could better care for him
or could care for him at all.
He seemed to do much better
in an environment where he was encouraged.
I’m pretty certain it’s dead now.
I owe you a letter
I know
but I don’t have anything to say.
Nothing I’m proud of.
Nothing important.
I have no interesting stories
no indicative anecdotes
nothing of note
had happened this week
this month
this millennium.
Things are on a steady course
nothing’s wrong
but
there’s nothing I’m ready to share.
Not today.
Not with you.
I wish I could manufacture fiction for you.
I wish I had it in me.
I don’t.
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me
for letting our correspondence
waste away so.
Go, Brad.
It’s time for you to leave.
You can’t stay here
you’re not welcome in this neighborhood.
You’re not welcome in the state.
You’ve been hiding in safety for too long
avoiding the dangers waiting
right outside the door
that need to be faced.
You must confront the demons
that made you hide.
You must face those who hate you
and arrive at some conclusion.
And that may be your end
but after push and shove
an end is gonna come anyway.
You have to try.
You have to get out.
You’ve gotta go.
You’ve got to meet the threats
and figure out which is which’s master.
You’ve got to grow up
get moving
find a better place to call home.
You have to mature
improve
arrive at something more, boy.
You have to change.
I’m doing this for you.
I’m doing this for us.
I’m doing this to get my coach back.
You’ve got to go, Brad.
You have to leave.
She’s got an exclamation point
on her ass.
What does that mean?
What could it signify?
Why
does she have such a mark
in such a place?
Does she want to draw that attention?
Is that her special thing?
Did someone secretly
add it to her offside?
Is she unaware
of the mark’s existence?
(I almost never use mirrors to look at my ass
and it is FINE)
What is the story here?
What is going on?
I would ask
if I could just get
a bit closer to her
before the orgy arrives at its end.
You should be dancing with her
instead of standing there
bobbing head
seeming cooler than thou
thinking she doesn’t mind
your bullheaded stance.
She may not mind.
She may be willing
to accept your unwillingness
to sweat
to move like a fool
to groove at the show
to prance
to dance.
She may think that what you offer her
is enough
and that may be true
for a while.
But it will not last
unless you’re willing to move fast
or slow
whatever the tempo requires
you need to find motions appropriate
or find a girl non-ambulatory.
This girl
she needs one who can match her pace
look her in the face
sweat streaming
parts flailing
pumping hearts and bumping parts.
She needs you to dance.
She’ll realize it eventually
and you’ll discover
she needs a lover with a better rhythm
whose shoes prove
how well he moves
how much he wants to please her
in whatever way he can.
She’ll go looking for a better man
a man who loves her enough to dance.
That could be you
if you pick another path
and you should – and quick.
This could be your last chance.
You should dance.
I see them sometimes
in the distance
in neighborhoods
I visit infrequently.
I spy them
tripping down sidewalks
and hide before they can see me.
While sneaking through shadows
I spy them
– those three –
traveling amiably
ambling away on the avenue
and I think about the path that took me here
and how it led me to them.
I could have arrived at this destination
in so many ways
but I chose a route
a different direction
where I see her
with him
and their little one
a little one whom I might have known
very much better.
Instead
I see her
and her family
only in passing
in lands I barely know
until I shrink before their gaze.
She kissed him softly
and asked to stay the night
and while he didn’t respond right away
he knew the answer
before she had asked the question.
“I’m not the one,” he said
“It ain’t me, babe.”
“I can’t go for that,” he explained,
“No can do.
You can go your own way.”
He knew
no matter what he wanted
what she wanted
they wouldn’t be able to work it out.
“Take a look at me now,”
he told her,
“It’s just a shame,
that’s all.”
She didn’t like it.
She didn’t have to.
He sent her off.
“Get back to where you once belonged.”
but that’s a story for another day.
jonberger 