jonberger

It’s 85 out.
I went to public school 75
theN taught at PS 65.
I can’t drive fifty five,
I’m forty five,
Drew Blood’s really thirty five
and I was born in the one oh oh two five.
I had an after school job on West one one five.

What does it mean?
What does all this signify?
What’s it all about, Alfie?
Ask Seinfeld.

Jerry Seinfeld was safe.
Jerry Seinfeld was reasonable.
Jerry Seinfeld was the latest
in a long train of comedians as the face of sitcom stardom.
He was a calculation.
He was expected.
He was not one that would rock the boat
but then he did.
Fridays-friends Richards and David defined it
and with Ess Enn El alumn Julia Louise onboard
and Alexander along for the ride
they created something
unprecedented.
And Fridays was a Lorne Michaels’ ripoff
and Dreyfus was at the original for a while
and they both exploded their genre once.

Does that explain how they did it?
Is that how they rebuilt television
in their own nihilistic vision?
Ask Seinfeld.

I’ve been looking for signs.
I’ve been searching the streets for significanceunable to achieve anything
akin to my goals.
I’ve been hoping for a place

a place of understanding
where I can learn about myself
and the universe.
I thought my city would provide wisdom.
I thought a show about my city would be the key
and comprehension would be uncovered
between its commercials.

Who was Steinbrenner?
What did the waves mean?
Who played Kramer on Jerry?
These answers could solve everything.
Everything…

Ask Seinfeld.

Things are going wrong.
The day’s just begun
but you can feel everything hellbent
and wretched.
You’re a day short and a dollar late
to simply break even.
It’s not unexpected
but it ain’t no good, neither.

You’re in a fog.
Your head is in knots.
You’re speaking in the second person for god’s sake.
You know that can’t be right.
It’s a bad day, clearly
leading into a bad year.

And you hope you’re wrong.
You pray that
your precognitive gifts
are simply bad feelings left over
from a bad burrito
or something.
You want to believe
you’re taking things out of context
making molehill mountains
or seeing mold
where there should only be golden manna.

But you suspect
you’re reading things right.
Situations are getting tight.
You want to fight it
but you’re living with fright
and try as you might
there is a bathroom on the right.

When you asked me
if you could use your debit card
to buy two t-shirts
at the merch table
at first I said nothing
because
you were really pretty
and I didn’t have anything to say
about that
or the other thing
about the shirts
because I wasn’t selling The Triangle Players’ merch anyway
not that they could accept debit cards anyway
since if heard them say the machine was down.

I tried to stutter out some of that
but I don’t think you understood
so you walked away to get cash
and I wanted to stop you
even though you were doing the right thing
anyway.

I went looking for you
near the closest bank
but maybe you went to the bodega instead
and when I eventually saw you later
I couldn’t figure out how to approach you.

That’s when I can up with the idea
of writing this note on the t-shirt you were asking about
and I guessed your size
though I’m not sure if I got the right chest dimensions
but I guess that doesn’t matter much in a t-shirt anyway

and I think you’ll be surprised
when you see this shirt
after I sneak it into your handbag
and you look at it later when you’re in the train
or maybe at home and
I just wanted to say “Hi.”

That was a mistake.
I ate too much.
Way too much.
“More than the larder can bear” too much.
I ate the way a starving village eats:
Ravenously
Rapturously
Revengefully, like my body must be punished
for walking me to a table
where such a feast was offered
for sitting down before a plate as filled as that
for cutting and slicing and slurping in
everything around
and shouting out
demanding seconds.
My stupid body needs to be taught
not to do that to itself.

My stomach hurts.
My waist hurts.
My jaws hurt
and my skin hurts
as it is being stretched beyond capacity
threatening to snap
and showing my innards for all to see.

I am not going to survive this night.
I’ve got the meat sweats
the pasta runs
and a bad case of cheese face.
That was so much food I packed in
I think I made up for the three people who couldn’t make it.
I am ashamed of what I have done to myself
and what I will soon do
to the bathroom.

I made a mistake
consuming so much,
well past the point of enjoyment.
I shouldn’t have eaten so much
– but how else will they know you liked it?

This was a bad idea.
Let me take that back.
This was THE bad idea.
I thought we knew enough
to not make those same mistakes again
but we’re just so good at them
you know?
We make those mistakes
so very naturally.

I should have known how familiar
our rhythms would become
and though it’s good to see you
to experience you again
after this time
really
there’s a reason that we had that time.
We don’t get along.

I should have left the key.
You should have changed that stupid lock.
We should be apart and I should never
have begged you
to return to what was so wrong.
This was a mistake.
This was my mistake.
I should have known better.
I’m sorry.

I’m gonna say goodbye now.
I’m not saying it hasn’t been fun
this thing we’ve been doing
but
it
simply seems a little one-sided, see?

I want to see you
want to know what’s going on
and I have sent you letters
every single day we’ve been apart
and
the lack of reciprocation
was intriguing at first.
It felt romantic.
It made me try harder.

But I’ve tried hard
and I’ve tried long
and I’ve tried against a wall for so many months
and
it’s exhausting
and I
do not think I can do it anymore.
I probably could
actually
but I don’t think I want to.

I want to have someone
who wants to have me
or at least
lives
close enough
for it be possible.
I don’t believe that’s too much to seek.

So this is goodbye
I think.
I will not be stopping by
anymore.
Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Good.

Could we…
Could we go back a little bit?
Stop
and ask ourselves
just where it went off the rails
and if we can update the margins or something?

Can we take a minute
reverse time and our assumptions
and have a nice night of it?
Is that possible?
Can we fix this?

Look
I have this Reset button
on my phone.
It lets me go back to factory settings.
Can we…
Can we just do that for tonight?
Can we at least TRY?

You’re repeating yourself
which wouldn’t be a big deal
if you were saying anything interesting
but
you never say anything interesting.
You’re repeating yourself,
and it’s getting out of hand.

You’re repeating yourself
with increasing frequency
and repetition
and prepositions placed in the wrong parts of the sentence.
You’re speaking of the same stuff
in the same wrong ways
over and over and OVER again
and…
you see what ‘m getting at, right?
You’re repeating yourself.

You’re repeating yourself
like you’re on Repeat.
You’re repeating yourself
like you’re talking to a clone.
You’re repeating yourself
like a computer program had uncovered your brainwaves
and could replicate you with unerring accuracy
and the program is trying to test your memory
while you’re trying to test the program’s memory
and it just goes on and and on and on
like a record baby, right round.
You are communicating redundantly.

And maybe you once had interesting things to say.
Maybe you had a way
that made your words and thoughts and mannerisms charming
or at least worth a second listen.
Maybe you were raised to think you are better than you are
with a greater sense of self-worth than you deserve.
Maybe you like to hear yourself talk.
I don’t.
Not anymore.
Not since I realized that you
repeat…
Never mind.

Every day is a victory.
Every instant a blessing.
If you have lived through another glorious sunrise
you have won.
You should be proud.
You have conquered.

You have defeated every predator
who sought to consume you
heart, soul and marrow included.
You have beaten them.
You have survived.

Every opportunity you take
to draw breath
and look around you
and appreciate your life
and continue,
each of these must be remembered.
Treasured.

Every midnight
every single one
I do not have three anchovy pies
delivered from the place downstairs,
that is good, too.

I don’t want your therapist
making decisions for us.
I should at least have
a choice in the matter.
That’s not too much to ask, is it?
I want a say
in the future
you and your therapist are building
as to where I’ll be living
with how many kids
relatives and amphibians.
Let’s just keep the options open,
all right?

I want to be involved
in what religion we’re going to take on
what furniture we’ll be buying
what investments we’ll have to make
to pay for it.
I’m not suggesting I tell you what we should do
but I would hope
on occasion
to be consulted, huh?
I mean, really!

We should be working together
to make our plans.
It shouldn’t just be you and your doctor
surely.
In fact, I’m worried about how much
you listen to her.
And though she may have just about convinced you
that I don’t exist
I do ask that you at least keep an open mind.
Will you do that
for me, honey?

Honey?