jonberger

When you decided to die
I fell apart.
I didn’t see any reason to go on
for a little bit
and thought about following your lead.
I didn’t have the strength
or the will
or, more likely,
I couldn’t lower my natural predilection for living
enough to change my lifeline’s length
so I lasted through that long day’s journey into suicidal sites
and survived your switchblade stop.

And
eventually, it got easier.
I accepted the absence
and found my frustration eases by days without you
and, finally, decided
that if you wanted to end it,
it might have been a good choice for you
but a shitty choice for those who loved you
so if you needed the coward’s way
the inward better off without you.

So thanks
for that dire departure.
It was a final way to break it off,
but kinda cool
that you didn’t mind
the lack of alternative options.
I’m over it.
It’s just a shame
you won’t get the chance to be, too.

Don’t blame me, I voted for chaos. Don’t blame me, I voted for love.
Don’t blame me, I voted for night-time.
Don’t blame me, I voted for dope.
Don’t blame me, I voted for Jesus.
Don’t blame me, I voted for Wham!
Don’t blame me, I voted for the metric system
and the Metro
and Mr. Mister.
Don’t blame me, I voted for Mayor Doom.
Don’t blame me, I voted my conscience.
I voted consciously.
I voted conscientiously.
I voted contentiously.
I voted my cantankerous best.

And my candidate didn’t win
and my candidate didn’t place
and my candidate didn’t even show up
but i voted dammit.
I voted for you
and if the officials ask
why I had your ballot
and your identity
and your socks
just understand,
I voted
– so don’t blame me.

Well, this hardly seems fair.
She got the loft,
she got the records,
she got about seventy percent of the friends
– which included all of the cute ones
(though they probably started off as hers
anyway)
and now
with her new husband
and her new little puppy
she’s trying to get the bar, too?

I introduced her to this bar
back when it was The Rolling Pin,
before it became The Rolled Pig
but after it was My Big Rolls.
She didn’t like it at first
but grew to love it
as she did me.

Why couldn’t she treat this place
like me?
Why must she come here
so often,
so happy
with her hubby
and all those hot friends?
She’s not going to kick me out.
I’ll stay in this place I’ve loved so long
despite her worst intentions.
I won’t quit the Rolled Pig quite so easily
even if she and that man of hers
start to make out on the stools
and by the bathrooms
and beneath the pool table
or even right by my drink…

Oh, Jeez.
Excuse me.

The wedding hookup
was drunken, loud
shameful and short.

It was with a stranger
who “normally doesn’t do anything like this –
really!”
but had condoms enough
for a dozen more encounters.
The wedding hookup
was not without
experienced participants.

The wedding hookup
was exciting
The wedding hookup
was dangerous
The wedding hookup
was supported by a soundtrack of VH1 hits of the 80s
which did not stop me
from hearing every single sound
of the wedding hookup
in the room next door.

The girl you left at the bar
so you could take that booty call
was a little hurt at first
but then
upon reflection
realized that the sort of guy
who’d abandon her for that sure thing
wasn’t the sort
she would want to occupy too many hours with
and it was better she found it out in the short term
before she felt more seriously cheated.

She realized the guy was a rat.
She realized she was better off alone.
She realized she deserved something more significant
like a cat rapist
or a lawyer.

She was thinking about you
then she thought better of it.
Just thought you should know.

I am driving past the town you lived in
ten years back
when we fought so feverishly
about the commute
and argued about why
you had to come to me
when I wouldn’t visit you.

Turns out
you were right.
It would’ve been really easy
to get to you.
It’s practically in the city limits.
I could have seen you all the time
and we needn’t have petered out
the way we did:
exhausted.

It just seemed so much harder
back then
I apologize for the way I acted.
I apologize for how hard I made everything.
Fire and fury seemed to envelop so much back then.
I apologize.

Your choice of housing
needn’t have been the end of us.
The drive has been really beautiful.
I could’ve done this every day of my life
and so much more…

Hello.
How you doin’?
Why am I calling
after so long
and so many words left said?
Well,
I was just thinking back
and wondering…
Look: is there any chance
that we’re getting back together?
I know it’s abrupt
but it’s kind of an important question.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately
and remembering all of our great old days.
I’ve been remembering
reminiscing
and just returning to the past.

Should we try it again?
It’s kind of important
like I said
and timing is sort of crucial
and I wish you could let me know if
it’s time to stop living in the past
or to return to it
wholeheartedly.

So: thoughts?
You’re good?
You’re happy
to just continue the life you’ve been living?

Great!
I’ll just get back to the fiancé
and justice
and say that we’re a go!

The roadsign I just passed
for Delaney’s Grill
offered to serve “Heaven’s Steak”
which got me thinking about
just what heaven’s steak
would taste like.

It’s got to be good
– but like ice cream
or gravy fries
or sex?
Does it taste
like everything else on God’s green
just like chicken?

Do they grill up in heaven?
What animal makes their steak?
What do they kill?
Is dinosaur still available?
Shouldn’t they be vegan up there anyway?
And are the animals
like some Douglas Adams creation
unconscionably happy
to be slaughtered for the angels’ pleasure?
Maybe it’s people they eat
or
Good God!
Do they dine on angels up in heaven?

I mean
I’m okay with that.
I can live with the taste of angel.
In fact,
I’d like to try that now!

Why am I staring?
Really?
You really need me to tell you?
You need to hear
how I justify looking at you
persistently
penetratingly
penitently?
You need an explanation?

Because you’re smokin’,
that’s why.
No, not that thing you hold
betwixt your lips
– although that’s fairly enticing, too –
I’m talking about that face and form
which you know full well attracts
and encourages auditory address.

I would talk to you
I would engage
but I’m much more interested in watching you
becoming aware
of your actions and experiencing
whatever you have to offer.

Is that possible?
Is that all right?
Oh, you already answered?
I’m sorry.
I wasn’t listening.
I was… busy.

The bike broke eight times
when I was young
since I loved it too well
and too poorly
both at once.

I didn’t know how to treat this thing
I spent such time with
and hurt it
with a zest and abandon
that must have been crushing
and, in fact, was.

I lost so many bicycles
to my youthful behavior
and felt awful
each time I found myself walking
rather than flying on handlebars
racing down roads
jumping curbs
and popping righteous wheelies.
Being without a bike sucked

but losing the bike
to the repair shop
or the dump
sucked even more
and I found myself
less and less
on my soft-spoked friend
and more and more pacing the pavement.

I gave up on bikes
since it hurt so much
to lose them.

And now I am old
and heavy
and my calves are all flab
and I don’t even know
if I can balance myself the way I used to
but
I long so deeply and well
to fly on the handlebars
and pop a righteous wheelie.

I just hope
that there’s a bike
prepared to handle me.