jonberger

OLD MAN NEWMAN

This is not the party
I thought I was going to.
Watching teenage head
given to teenage head cases.
It’s creepy,
though not without its own
unique pleasures.
“Momma Told Me Not To Come,”
indeed.

This is not the party
I expected to experience
with most everyone half my age
and twice my charisma points
and none of them wanting to play
with me.
I had really hoped role play
would be involved
but it appears
that’s not
what the kids are into
these days.

This is not the party
I thought would be had
or would ever have me.
I never thought
I’d get the invite
or know the secret entry phrase
or receive those special latex
party favors.

I didn’t think
this was where I’d be
or whom I’d be with
or how I’d get here
at this age.
I’d thought these days
were well behind me
but
you’re never too old
to be so very wrong.

TWO PRINCES

You can do what you wanna do:
pick the man for you.
Choose whomever you think is right
The independently wealthy guy
or the hard-working copy clerk.
You can have the fellow with the rapier wit,
an uberfit body
and a rock hard dick
or
you can choose the alternative.

There’s that confident kid
who can share his hopes and dreams
and has good chance
of fulfilling them
and then there’s the sullen shy boy,
afraid of his shadow
and his various shames.
Both options are available
and await your decision.

There’s he who can help you reach your destiny
and he who needs you
needs you to get out of bed
needs you to feel complete
needs you to accomplish anything.

Decide what you want.
Come to your conclusions.
Resolve this debate.
Go ahead now…

AN IPOD

I am not an iPod,
so take off your headphones
when I speak.

I am not an iPod.
I require more
to be recharged.

I am not an iPod.
i am not here
to be in the background
and will not change my tune
on your command.

I am not an iPod
nor a tool
you can pocket and pretend
is simply a fashion accessory.
I am more than that.

I am not an iPod:
I don’t know a thousand songs
by a hundred artists
that you value at pennies apiece.

I am not an iPod,
and you cannot turn me off
quite that easily

HURICANE JESS

Can’t talk:
Gotta go.
Gotta move.
Can’t spare a minute
or a dime.
It’s time to get shaved.
it’s time to get bathed.
Internal oaths have been made.
Tomorrow, Jessica returns to town.
Jessica’s back around.

It’s been a while
since any such opportunity
has availed itself.
Been some time
since Jessica’s touched these shores.
My pores open in anticipation
of what else she may touch
now that that girl is back in town;
can’t wait ’til Jessica’s come around.

It’ll be different this time.
I will not set so many expectations,
tell her what to do
or how to be.
I’ll be better.
I won’t let her get away
again.
If I can get that girl back
I’ll be sure she never leaves.
Believe: Jessica won’t leave this town.
I’ll force her to ground.

When I see her,
what will she say?
How will it play out,
this eternal thing between us?
Will she think back,
like me,
in those glorious few forest weeks
or the many months that followed?
Will she smile or frown
when Jessica sees me around?

Either way
our reunion will be explosive.
I can see the fireworks erupt already
imagining the force
of our next meeting
tomorrow
when Jessica is back to town.
Tomorrow
for our showdown.

ALMOST YOU

I have been waiting
more than half my life
to find you.
Your image captivated me
generations ago
– though your simple 2D frame
seemed too much
for my young head to stand
when that head was all I held.

You played in my imagination
as a score played past me
while life kept us
from ever truly interacting
We could have met decades ago.
We could have met years ago
or months
or days,
but I waited
until the time was right
– or so I thought.

For now,
at last,
what fueled me for so long
failed to live
up to the legend.
The reality of you paled beside
my own internal expectations.

You were something like
what I always thought you’d be
– but not quite.

2 LIVE

With your uncle dying
in the bed,
you sneak off to the broom closet
with that boy you barely know
and do things
that disrespect your uncle
his uncle
and a monkey’s uncle
as yet unnamed.

Feel shame rush over you
as well as this stranger’s hands
as you try to ignore
that your uncle’s last words
may be said
with you too far to hear them.
John may pass
with only his wife and son
as witnesses.
Let that sink in
along with the attendant’s shaft.

Recognize that,
while life escapes Uncle John,
the boy who currently occupies your time
and space
is missing nothing,
treasuring life
while pleasuring you.
Let his kisses offer solace
in your time of desperation
and presume that he too
needs to get over something.
Doesn’t everyone?

Enjoy what you can
for your uncle
even if he can’t appreciate it.
Take what joy
this existence can offer
if only in a darkened room
with a boy you barely know.

COMPATIBLE SPECIES

The things Kim did to me
in the bathroom
at Kay’s party
cannot easily be described
and would make little sense
since
if you look at Kim,
then look at me,
you’d have trouble recognizing us
as compatible species.
You wouldn’t believe a word
of what she was capable of doing
to one such as I
even were one such as I
capable of understanding
and being able to describe.

I barely believe it myself,
can hardly put the pieces together
of how she saw me
smiled on me
spoke and acted
then acted upon me.
It was degrading.
It was awesome.

I’m afraid to reach out to Kim
and ask if she’ll see me again.
Would she go for it
or was I simply to be used
and forgotten?

I can’t imagine how I could even repeat
such a disgraceful and dirty evening
even if Kim’d be involved
unless I could replicate the cocktails
or get the keys to go back to Kay’s.

Either way,
that was some party
and I’m proud
to have been party to it.

THE SCENE AT THE SIGN

From my booth in the center
I see the sights
of the scene at The Sign.
Three hot girls in the corner
singing “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star”
– all off-key –
while that hippie chick
who never tips
(according to Evelyn),
turns in circles to the Stones
like Altamont never occurred.
Her boyfriend looks like he’s staring
behind his shades
but really he’s nodding off
from Nikki’s wares.

The boys in the back are looking for a fight.
The girls who were singing are looking for some White.
The spinning hippie chick won’t be getting none tonight
and I see it all
from my special spot
in the center of the scene
when Nikki approaches
looking sinister, stunning
and sexy
in her blood red best.
“This club is pretty loud,” she says,
“do you want to get out of here?”
“Are you kidding?”
I reply, “The show’s just getting started.”

I wish this were a big love
a love that eclipses all others
a love that denies everything
but its own inner sense
but it’s not, is it?

This is a small love we share
a quiet thing that knows jealousy and pettiness
and can be blown over by a strong wind.
It is not a love of gods, titans nor heroes.
It is a love of humans
small humans
fragile and easily broken
or dissolved.

And I hope it becomes neither of those.
I hope it grows to become something stronger
and so I think
we should strive
to protect it.