jonberger

THE LCPO

The community poetry organization
here in Longwood
encourages everyone
to express themselves,
to speak from personal experience,
and find their individual voice.

Mrs. Washington,
the curator
who doubles as a librarian
over on Southern Boulevard,
wants to increase
the peace of mind
for the kids,
giving them something to focus on
other than the darkness
and the danger
of their day-to-day
but
it is mostly the oldsters
who show up
and speak
about the damned kids
and all the noise they make
with their sex
and crack cocaine
and comic books.

Kids do show up
occasionally
to the Longwood Community Poetry Organization
but
do not frequently return
which is all right
since Mrs. Washington
is kind of a bitch.

WITHIN HER PERIMETER

Like a goddess
or a comet
or a waitress,
she works the room.
All seems to exist
within her perimeter
to witness her smile.
She is something
and sometimes,
she’s something else

Her skirts are a little shorter
her shirts a little tighter,
her rates a little lighter
when Hal comes around
which makes no sense.

She is so gorgeous,
so sweet,
and he treats her
like some cut of meat.
Why does she want him
when so many others
would be so appreciative
of what she has to offer?

It is a crime against nature
that she should not be with one
who deserves her
or at least one
that knows he doesn’t
but seeks to rectify the situation.

Why is the world so wrong
in this regard
yet so right
in that it could create one
as visionary
as she?

JUDE LAW COULD

The screenplay that I’m working on
– thanks for asking,
it’s going great –
is about a young boy
nice kid
who’s got everything going for him:
smart, handsome, funny…
Shy.
Quiet.
Bit of an underachiever.
Doesn’t shave quite so often as he should,
but still:
good guy. He’s the hero of the piece.

And he’s about to take the world by typhoon when,
suddenly,
he doesn’t.
The record execs won’t produce his albums,
the casting couches do not welcome him,
his novels, articles and poems never get published.
It’s like
there’s a conspiracy of apathy
around this kid
and the public doesn’t get to adore him
as they really,
rightfully should.

It’s a catastrophe,
sure,
but he rises above it,
going about the day-to-day grind,
sharing his wares
with whomever he can;
going to work
– when he’s not too drunk
or depressed
or unemployed –
behaving like a model citizen
when really,
he’s so much more.

This man is the Everyman;
a man destined for greatness
that had been stolen from his grasp.
It is a crime against nature
and fate
the fall of this man,
this Everyman,
this regular Joe.

That is where the pathos lies
in the first couple acts
until,
like a bolt,
he meets George Clooney
though, really,
it can be any A-list superstar
under studio contract.
I’m flexible.
But Clooney’s got the chops
for the role.
I say we let him do it.

George Clooney
discovers our hero
and gets him a record deal,
a book deal,
and a modeling deal
and he takes on the crowds
who realize,
at last,
what they’d been missing
and they’re sorry
and apologetic
and Elaine finally returns my calls
and –
it all fades into an old-fashioned
Happily Ever After.

Of course,
there’s room for sequels.
I’ve got a couple planned out:
A sci-fi story
and an action flick,
a buddy film
with George Clooney
– or whomever.

I think that Jude Law
could play the star.
He’s a good enough actor
to handle the range of this part.

Anyway,
you wanna read it?

ABROAD

I have fornicated in Florida
and I’ve banged in ‘Bama.
I’ve deflowered in Virginia
and fucked at the Falls.
I got a little in California
felt a little in Georgia,
and got felt up elsewhere.
I saw some stuff in Dallas
and made folks watch in Austin.
These are the places I’ve been
and been in,
and, like an NBA ref,
I’m sick of the traveling.

I stay home these days
and I’m getting about
as much as expected.
The outservice rates
are getting high
but it fits my current trip allowance.

I could explore overseas.
I could try online dating
or phone sex
or any other non-literal strategy.
I could do so much
to so many
but
pornography is so cheap these days
that I no longer need to go
to come
which leaves me sated
and stationary.

CHANGE OF RHYTHM

You love the musician boys
when you know they will do you wrong.
They will hurt you
and write songs about it
and you will never know because
they’ll play clubs in other neighborhoods
that you won’t visit
except with the next musician boyfriend
who will, in turn, hurt you too.

This is a cycle that you repeat
too often
a ride whose ticket you’ve already bought
for far too much.
You must break the chain.
Go a different way
find the sort of boy
who won’t work at Wimpy’s
well into his forties.

You need to take a risk
and do something new
if only for the novel experience.
Date a poet.
They don’t need a band to make it
because there is no chance
that a poet
will ever make it.
His best bet would be to teach high school English
until cutbacks require the position
go to someone with a Masters.

A poet knows where he stands
in the pecking order
so he’d be appreciative
of any attention
sent his way.

Sleep with a poet
Let him woo you.
They’re good people
and plus,
poets have a,
uh,
what’s the phrase?
Oh, right!
A way with words.

Date a poet
to change your pattern.
Date a poet
and fix your life.
Date a poet
because those musicians ain’t working out
and I don’t have anything else to offer.
Date a poet
and start a new trend
in mere minutes.

So, what do you think?
And please, when you answer,
realize whose language
you use:
Mine!