I thought I saw you walking down the street
but that’s nothing new.
I see you most everywhere.
Your shape
your walk
your laugh sometimes permeates into my consciousness.
I know it’s not you.
Last I heard
you were in Chicago
or Kansas
or maybe Eurasia.
After I heard you moved,
I wasn’t paying close attention.
But wherever you are,
Beth,
wherever you may have gone,
I can tell
part of you
has stayed
haunting me
even after all this time.
I would have talked to you,
had I known my ass from my elbow
or how to form the phrases
that would turn your heart warm
or what to say that mightn’t make you go away.
But go away you did
just as if I had tried
and failed.
You left me
without knowing that was what you did
or who I was.
You had no clue
who you were in my story
just as I have no view
as to who I could have been for you
had I some strategy to make you not flee
or words to heat your soul
or had I known elbow from ass.
Don’t take it too hard
or take it to heart
or think it’s hard to take
or… anything else.
So what if you messed up today?
Who cares if crashed the car
the computer
or your mother’s orgy?
Sure, you made a mistake
or eight
but it’s over now, past midnight.
It’s tomorrow
and your old mistakes are over.
It’s a new day
where you can start all over again.
Rest assured,
with enough care,
will and bravery
you will screw up today
in ways that will make yesterday
look like nothing.
I have faith in you.
You will make tomorrow
SO awful.
Trust me.
Knowledge is like a river
flowing ever forward
wetting appetites
for more of what it provides.
Knowledge is like an explosion of cats
impossible to contain
and once it begins to spread
will almost certainly claw and bite you
if you attempt limit its freedom.
Knowledge is like a chick you really want to fuck
but who’s into another guy
or girl
or form of vegetation
– the important thing is she’s not into you,
get it?
She may smile
and look kindly upon you
but it ain’t gonna happen
unless you have enough to pay
which is unlikely to be a smooth negotiation,
so you’re probably better off
just leaving her alone.
Trust me on this one, all right?
I just know.
Knowledge is like the last episode
of How I Met Your Mother
where you’ve met the Mother
and you discover her name has the same initials
as your trusty narrator
and isn’t that special, but
– Spoilers!
Knowledge is spoilers.
Knowledge is a whole lot of things
all at once
many contradictory.
Knowledge is something
you think you want to have
until you do.
I have no siblings
no brothers
no sisters
no hermaphroditic undecideds
that shared my bedroom growing up.
I slept alone
– if I slept at all.
I had no pets
few friends
and a locked door behind me
when I came back from school,
blocks and blocks
away from home.
I enjoyed a solitary childhood.
And it is strange
how the child is father to the man
and the acorn grows into a gigantic monstrous acorn-bush
and the way you were defines the way you will forever be.
It is strange how little company
I had as a boy
and now
I am constantly crowded by a public
that cannot leave me alone
here
in this penitentiary.
I want to write fanfiction about you
draw sketches of you
I want to photoshop you
in that lovely floor length skirt
into a forest
and see you surrounded by a beauty
no wilder than yours.
I want to save you
from dark creatures.
I want to find you
in dark nights,
see you
in dark tales
where you are questing
for some secret
important mysterious thing,
adventuring to your heart’s content
until you uncover,
at story’s end,
me,
the unknown object of your affection,
and we live happily ever after.
I want to feature you
in magazine portfolios
so I may read about the parts of you
I do not yet understand.
I want to cut up the glossy full-page ads
representing diamonds
as things that can only hope to attain
your luminescence,
seeking some presence
as your satellite.
I want to fly you to France.
I want to watch you dance.
I want to take off your underpants
and wear them
– or wear nothing.
Whichever works best.
I want to have you
in my fantasies
something that has already happened
and I want them
to become
more.
It’s a little late for an apology,
I know, but
better late than never
as someone once cliched.
so,
I might as well jump this plank
and go swimming with sharks.
I’m sorry for the cliches
I always used to use
how I couldn’t speak honestly
or shoot straight at the heart of the matter.
I was scared. I was unsure.
I was unclear about my directives
and couldn’t stress the things that I should have.
My words were vague
because I avoided truth.
I’m sorry I lied.
They weren’t intentional lies
but I pretended to be smarter,
braver,
better than I was.
I thought then
that I was better than I am now
and even now, I’m not much.
I’m sorry I’ve gotten so fat.
I’m sorry you didn’t see more in me
that you thought would be worth keeping
and thought it better
that we go separate ways
on our own independent journeys.
I’m sorry my taste in music
didn’t impress you more
or at all.
I’m sorry that my taste in you
was equally unimpressive.
I’m sorry we didn’t work out.
I’m sorry we failed.
I was sorry for these things then, too
so I’m sorry it took me so long
to say it.
But better late than never, right?
Oh.
Right.
He comes in
most days
around ten forty five
and his shift starts at nine
– like the rest of us.
What makes him so special?
He constantly mispronounces "supposedly"
and occasionally misuses it.
If he doesn’t want to learn the language,
why not go back to his native lands
in Connecticut?
He looks down on everything and everyone
which is really ridiculous
considering how often
his team saves his bacon-fat from the fire
and lets him maintain his airs.
How can he act so superior
when he’s clearly so inferior?
He goes by the diminutive version of his name
when he’s a full-grown man
(when he decides to act like it).
Why would someone in their thirties
choose to call himself Jimmy
when James is sophisticated,
superbly smart?
Shouldn’t he aim for something better?
He is where standards go to die.
He is so dumb, he never asks why.
he is such a loser; I don’t have to spy.
Jim’s shitty paper, only one-ply.
Why
does no one care
about what he does?
Why
do they waste their time
with me
when there is so much worse out there
right now?
Look, I’m no hero
(even if I seem to be one)
but I can tell what side
my bread is buttered on.
The other day
I was walking downtown
and I saw a burning building
and I did what any self-respecting
normal guy would do:
triple somersaulted onto the fourth floor
looked for burning infants,
tossed them out the window,
then climbed on the outside of the building to the roof
to see if anyone had left their pets behind.
It only takes so little
to be better than everyone else
and if you try,
maybe
– just maybe –
you can be superior
like me.
When the president comes to you
and tells you that my opinions are correct,
will that change anything?
What about the Pope
or your late great grandmother?
Is there anyone I can introduce into this argument
to convince you that maybe
– just MAYBE –
I might possibly know
what I’m talking about?
Could I bribe you
or get you high enough
so that you’ll just let me win this one
just this once?
What can I do
to get you
to see my side of the story
which is as far from the left side
as can be?
How can I make you see
the correct position
in this discussion
that the only pizza worth calling itself that
is at Sal’s & Carmine’s
not at Carmine’s & Sal’s?
What way can I get you to say
that you say you see the light?
jonberger 