jonberger

You were so delightful
so recently.
Everything before you was monochrome
and I hadn’t even realized it.

You brought breadth
and spirit
and danger
in such a short time.

Already you fade.

I’ve figured it out, I think.
The guys pooled their resources
didn’t they?
They took up a collection
for this sad sack before you
and they invested it
and gambled with it
and maybe stole some more to add to the pot
and they put together a substantial sum.

Then they collected information
on the best service available
and provided input as to what I was into.
I never should have told them about
what fuels my masturbation practice!

They hired you, didn’t they?
They found a beautiful talented actress
who could play the part of my dream girl
and act like she likes me
and they had enough loot put aside
so that you could stick around for the ride.

They paid for you
and they trained you
to be everything I wanted
and the reward was high enough
that you felt it was worth your while
to keep it going.

That’s what’s happened, isn’t it?
You’re the longest term paid escort ever,
right?

Six years must have cost some very pretty pennies
but I’d been sighing a whole lot
before you came along.

You can deny it.
I understand:
professionalism and all that.
But I’m on to you.
And even if that’s not it,
I’ll keep looking for an explanation.
There has to be some reason
why a lady like you
would be with a thing like me.

So help me
I am so tired of this.
If you tell my new girlfriend
one more time how much
I don’t deserve her
I will break you.

I will find your relatives
distant and close
and break them.
I will swallow your eyes
and shit them back into your sockets.
I am so sick of that bull.

…Too good for me….
How dare you?
She is an intelligent loving woman.
She can make decisions well enough on her own
but if she eventually figures out that I’m crap
because YOU told her,
you’re done.

I am never going to catch up on that lost sleep
no matter how much I convalesce.
I do not believe
the brain cells I lost
from the wine
and the weed
and the wood alcohol
and the all-night card games
and walks through locked parks
and moonlit kisses
under sun-kissed lights
will ever be replaced.

I am behind in so many ways:
tired
stupid
unshaved
or -bathed.
I am not the man I once was
and I doubt I’ll be become him again.
Not easily.
Not for a while.

I am changed
I think
for the worse
and
it was well worth it.

Your letters
do not serve the purposes
you think they do.
They call attention to the distance
that grows between us
each instant you are away.

They remind me
of what is missing
in a way
that solitude
emptiness
and silence do not.

Your letters scream out your absence
and though I love them
I cannot bear to read them
while you are away.

When you return
we shall pull out a corkscrew
and a knife
and open those tools
which will allow us to acclimate
into each other
– something that I hope
I need not spell out

With the new definitions we have placed
on our relationship
I respectfully submit
that there are certain behaviors, phrases and actions
we should both endeavor to remove
from our day-to-day.

Please do not let your hands rest upon mine
for more than three seconds.
Do not casually mention
our former weekend getaways
as they have been placed explicitly
in the past tense.
Refrain from humming my name in the hallways
or on my voicemail
or across my bed.

Do not correct my Pig Latin pronunciation
or refer to my hidden tattoos
or place the restraints upon my ankles
With that sultry fluttering motion.
No more spankings
or bathings
or plugs of any sort.

Do not tell me things for my own good
As you have lost the right to speak so casually
of my welfare.
And you may no longer call me “beloved,”
as that is the language of another era.

These are the new rules
I beg
we must maintain.
This is the way we shall get through this.
Please,
follow these edicts.
You have provided so many instructions
about our current state;
please accept this from me.

I just don’t have it in me tonight.
I wish I was ready to wax rhapsodic
about your charms
speak softly about your sweet whispers,
pronounce praise as I so often try to.

I don’t have the energy now,
the drive
the willpower
to take the necessary steps.
I wish I could you what you deserve
what I want to give you.

I wish I had more in me
but you’ve already taken
all that I have to give.

She holds her red balloon and delicately says

“be careful with it.

This is an object I treasure.

This is a thing I love.

Do not damage this gentle

possession. It is mine

and I would be loathe to lose it.

This is my soul,”

she says,

“Do not damage it.”

I look over this object of affection.

“It’s a balloon,”

I say,

pin in hand.

It will be a very long time

before I see any other balloons

and when I do, I suspect,

they will not be hers.

Take a day.
Lay back down.
Eat the pie.
Listen to the old albums
the favorite albums
the kindly ones.

Make calls to friends of an earlier age.
Watch the childhood shows
and refresh yourself
remembering days gone by.
Enjoy.

Rest.
Rejuvenate.
Regenerate and repair
quietly
In anticipation of the next crisis.
Eat the comfort food.
Take solace
in your history
and prepare
for what is clearly to come.

She asked why I was being weird and I said
"I’m not being weird.
You’re being weird."
She begged to differ,
looking at me
like I was the crazy-eyed lust-struck incontinent stalker
which,
while technically true,
is not the only way to interpret the state of affairs.

She had no clear evidence
after all
to support the supposition
that I was acting off.
She had experienced no base-line behavior.
to prove that the me she was currently seeing
was not the real me.
She didn’t even know my real name
– though that was not a fact
I was at that moment ready to share.

"Whatever, Henri" she said,
shaking head,
trying to get away from me.
She was moving so fast,
she tripped over the Styrofoam hookers I’d dropped
when entering the room.
Let me tell you.
she looked really weird when she did it.