MY INTENT
Words fail
but words are all I’ve had
and
I have no way
to present my appreciation
without.
Better folk could show you
emotionally
what you mean.
Others could express just what you signify
physically.
I have no such skills.
I wish I did,
wish I could show you
what I feel
but
all I have are these trite
small statements
and, as I might have mentioned before,
words fail.
OPPORTUNITIES UNLIMITED
The lessons of youth
before school
before peers
when it’s just your family
wishing you the best
and telling you tales,
those lessons
are lies.
You cannot be anything you want to be.
There are not opportunities unlimited
for every earthling
or even each American.
We can’t all be rock stars
or princesses
or wizards.
Not everything
can go everyone’s way
– not in our system
– or any that actually exists.
There is wont
and there is loneliness.
There is pain
and dissatisfaction,
even for the happiest of folks
though you won’t know that
for you won’t meet them.
The happiest reside in hidden towers
somewhere beyond your domain
and far away.
That is a lesson they never teach
but they should
and will
when I become king.
TALES
I worry
that some of the information
I grew up with
may well be faulty.
My face never froze in any particular shape
– maybe I’m malleable;
but I think mama lied.
I’ve done tons of Google-research
and seen no evidence
that Abstinence Education
yields the desired results
– but then, neither has Sex Ed.
And, thankfully,
there seems little proof that anyone
in the history of humankind,
has died of boredom
though I suspect tonight
may put that to the test.
“THE POLITICAL SITCH”
Yes, I guess you’re right.
I guess I have written a thousand poems about you
many which I thought were about something else.
That piece called “The Political Sitch”
was clearly about the time you didn’t return my calls for two weeks.
That haiku called “Blues Haiku,”
with the triple internal rhyme,”
where he see me, see?”
That’s actually referring to the road trip we took for your vintage glasses. You’ve sussed it out!
And my minor opus,
“Alternate Friday Hate”
that was absolutely,
positively, unarguably
about how you
under any circumstance,
at any time,
will identify every single thing
in the universe
as having to do with you.
You’ve uncovered my secret code,
Sheila.
It’s all about you.
GOOD AND GONE
Things were easier
when I was a young girl in New Jersey.
I was pretty then
and people would listen to my opinions
– if not really hearing them.
They would give me things
back then
and sing Tom Waits to me,
even at the most inopportune times.
Those were days
good and gone.
I miss it
being a young girl in New Jersey
and when I can
I shall return.
ONE IN A THOUSAND
I’d like to offer a one in a thousand opportunity
a point oh one percent chance
at happiness.
It’s a number that’s hard to identify
and a thing that you just may resist.
I would like to have unfulfilling sex with you.
Ugly, sweaty,
self-conscious, selfish sex
as only I can provide.
I would like to have sex on you
as I try my hardest
while you smile your fakest
and tell me it’s all right
and it happens to everyone.
I want to provide salty
deviant and uncomfortable physicality,
eminently forgettable
but historic in its awkwardness.
I want to offer you
especially inadequate sex
so we can strive
soon after
for something better.
SO BADLY
I wish I had the chance
to tell you how great you are
how wondrous your music
how eloquent your words.
I want to sing your praises
in person
after you sing to crowds.
I wish I could tell you
just how amazing you sound.
I want to compliment you
so badly
but
For me to be able to get there,
you have to get closer to me
and much
much better.
THEIR SILENT STORIES
Tis the season
when the leaves underfoot
so recently fallen
speak to me
their silent stories.
They tell me tales of abandonment
and loneliness
and the genocide of the gardener
with his apocalyptic rake and fire.
They chronicle their tragic terminus.
The leaves on the road
ending their cycle of life
talk of their return to nature
ground back into earth.
They sing to me
quietly
but still
ask me not to crunch down on them
quite so hard.
FROM RISK TO RISK
With the blood of emigrants in my veins
hardy, heart-bound stock
who crossed waters and worlds
seeking stronger life,
you would think I would be a stronger person
more daring
challenging customs
ranging from risk to risk.
With my genetics
and my culture,
I am uniquely prepared
for an adventuresome life
braving the elements
and the crises
that keep me from my goals.
I should be ready to rush
all dangers
to become what my foreparents
expected of me.
Instead, I have difficulty
leaving the house
on a nippy day
or approaching the goddess
that might proffer an icy stare.
I have failed my family
who fought so long
to create me.
But then again,
with such good raw materials,
they should have built me better.
That first kiss was scary.
The rain hadn’t stopped for hours
so I was drying off at your place
while your family was conveniently
out for the day
as we listened to music
in your room
with the door open.
We talked about things
that didn’t matter
and other things that did.
A lot of the details are lost
within your historic walls.
You made us hot chocolate
which you said
you learned from your mom
– but you couldn’t do
as well as her
but I said was delicious
and I wasn’t lying:
it was the best hot chocolate
I’d ever had;
warm and sweet
and soft and funny.
I don’t think I’d ever loved hot chocolate
as much as I did that stormy day,
though I’m sure your mom’s was nice
too.
I said that
or something like it
as I lay across your floor
and you lay perpendicular
and you leaned in
and seemed to know what to do
like you’d been to the store before
and knew what you wanted
and went down the right aisle
right away
to get it
and I wish I knew how to do that
because I’d been
window shopping for a while
looking for a way to kiss you
for a month
but could never find the time
or the way
or the nerve.
But you had no problem with it
and before I knew it I had closed my eyes
and then the hot chocolate
delicious as it was,
was not the best thing I’d tasted
all day.
It was a scary kiss
though it wasn’t me who dared
it was you
because I couldn’t imagine why someone like you
would be with me at all
that wet day
or any of the others that followed
until
eventually
you came to agree
and you shopped at a different store
and the kissing stopped.
But before that
– before the end –
and the glorious middle
all of which was filled with fear
and nerves
and joy and pain
and sunshine and…
there was that first kiss
which was wonderful
and I never really thanked you for it
not enough
and I guess
that’s all
I want to say.
jonberger 