jonberger

He found
that the longest time
was that between
when he asked her
to marry him
and when she explained
that she wouldn’t

until after her older sister tied the knot.

Baby, I knew you were special, when you come to the Village with that certain accent,
saying you were from New York but not really knowing where anything was.
You said you had to leave by midnight, like Cinderella, which seemed kind of romantic.
You didn’t leave a slipper, though.
I found a LIRR receipt.

Across many tracks I travelled just to see you tonight one more time.
It wasn’t easy to get out here. To leave the city felt a subtle crime.
But you’re worth it, Long Island Girl.
Yes, you’re worth it, Long Island Girl.

You seem funny and smart, Honey, and I don’t care if our cultural reference points don’t seem to be the same. I’m sure that with enough translations or alcohol we can begin to understand each other a little better. I have faith – no, not… that would be stupid.
Maybe we should just take a beat and go back to our respective corners and think about what we’re looking for.
You’re looking for a hookup?
Maybe this can work out just fine…

To find a girl like you in a land like this is ever so rare.
It’s not like I’d really know. This is a destination into I have never dared
but you’re worth it, Long Island Girl.
Oh, yes, you’re worth it, Long Island Girl.

I think this could be the start of something special here. We could meet up here or at my place a couple of times a week, if you’d like. I find you just delightful! We may be onto something, if you don’t mind my saying so!
How about you and me exchanging some more information and –
you want to go again tonight?
Now? But I don’t… I can’t…
Sweetie, I think this is over.

You’re so nice and kind, and really oh so sweet.
But I don’t think you’re the sort meeting I can repeat.
I’m sorry, Long Island Girl.
I’ve gotta get lost now, Long Island Girl.

Oh my God! Please come in! Take your coatcheck, right here.
What a familiar, lovely couple do you two appear.
Thanks for stopping in tonight. I hope we got what you want.
Take the window. You’ll look great in this Italian restaurant.
So you’ve probably heard about my old pal BJ,
he used to know a lot of people from around this way
but he got into some trouble with the wrong kinda folks.
Just a little too unserious; telling wrong kinda jokes.

He was an innocent man with a piano in his hands.
But that did not matter at all, and he had to take the fall.
He was an innocent man, but he got lost in someone’s plans
and in a sea of schemes, he drowned on rivers of dreams.

See, BJ played to novelists, entertainers and such
as well as the Outfitted, who came in for a touch
of the good stuff we’d provide when they asked real nice
but BJ didn’t treat them special. He gave a cold shoulder – with ice.
The Outfit boys didn’t appreciate the way they were treated.
They asked ole BJ for a warmer reception – You know: heated.
Even their boss came up to him. Said, “You know who I am?”
BJ looked him up and down and guessed: “Some failed diaphragm?”

He was an innocent man before his troubles began
but then his big smart mouth got him sent down South
though he was innocent, man. He still got sent down by van.
He didn’t have any hope because he’d been such a dope.

So the Outfit framed Piano Boy in a little crime.
The cops were told to lock him up for the longest time.
It was such easy money, the cops did as they were told
and BJ went to prison until he’d be really old.
He didn’t like it inside, but as if it were fate,
he discovered lockup had a set of eighty eights
so he could play to heart’s content right there in the pokey.
So you doin’ good tonight? You want to try the gnocchi?

Over forty years ago, my man Billy would exhort his boys
to talk to their women and let them know how they feel.
It was good advice then; it’s good advice now: Tell her about it.
I still refuse that advice.

Instead, I work out these winding variations of truth,
distanced paroxysms of various emotions spurted onto pages
with false names
or no names at all
that defy the reality of the situation,
honesty be damned.
Tell her about it?
What if there’s no one to tell?

I loved Billy when he gave his suggestion.
I was in a listening mood.
I bought his album when it was new.
Why didn’t I heed his words?

Thank you, thank you. You’re too kind. Really.
You can stop now. I’m sure we all have places to be
later in the evening.
That’s enough applause.

It is an honor to have won the Pulitzer Prize this year
for poetry. I must say, I am quite perplexed
to have achieved this success,
having never submitted for any award,
barely submitted work for publication,
rarely associating with the poetic community.

Having so little knowledge and relationship with the rest of the poetical word,
I am shocked to have been approved in this way.
Oh, is “poetical” not a word? Noted.

I’m just glad that someone got word of my website
and passed it on to the judges
so that they could make their decision
and provide me with this distinction.
I am so proud to be here,
I may compose a poem on the spot.

It is good
to be in this neighborhood.
If you would take my picture I’d be thankful.
Is that understood?

Thank you.
I may put it up on the website
but maybe it’s better if it just lives here in the moment
so only those who were at this ceremony
could appreciate it.

Anyway, thanks a lot.
See ya next year!

Unemployment has me on Hold
because the website timed out
REPEATEDLY
while I was applying for benefits
and so I couldn’t complete my request for money.
Because of this failure,
the system said it required me to call in.

I’m lucky I’m on hold.
Several times today, I called in and was told
“There are no agents available. Call back later.”
Then the automaton hung up on me.

I am afraid as the day nears its end,
it will hang up on me again, even though I called
with over an hour before the end
of a traditional work day.

The US works less and less like a functional business
where systems serve the consumer.
Perhaps in this case, there is no paying customer,
so there is no need to serve us in any way.
If the system worked as expected,
I wouldn’t have had any problems to begin with…

I’m never gonna get my money, am I?

I’ve not been on top of things lately.
Loss of sleep,
media saturation,
too much sugar in my system,
I’m just a wreck.

I’ve been writing
but I don’t know for sure what I’ve been doing.
I know the words haven’t been going to the end of the line.
Have I made a poetry?
If so, may I make another?
If so, how do I start?

I patiently look forward to the answers
through the same means
as this was sent.

Yours,
Poet.

Johnny and Pablo in a Pinto down a dusty road
in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania.
Don’t try to find it.
They don’t like to be found.
The pair screech to a stop
in the one-horse town
and saunter into the bar
which actually fronts a sizable meth-operation
– so maybe it’s a twelve horse town, after all –
and Pablo says, “We’d like the receipts.”
The bartender wonders what’s going on,
so Johnny clarifies.
“The money, man. Give us the money.
He pulls out a gun to show he means business.

Strangely, this huge drug business is unprepared
for the takedown, and the duo get away
with a small fortune.
They cackle as they ride off into the sunset.
Lennon and Picasso have done it again!

Good artists borrow; great artists steal.
Good artists borrow; great artists steal.
It’s well past time that you know the deal, that
good artists borrow; great artists steal.

They’re off to the next appointment in Pittsburgh
to the Warhol Museum for the heist of a career
– or for them, a day in the life.
“How long?” Johnny asks.
Concentrating, Pablo says nothing. Still a few miles to go.
They’re gonna rob the place blind.
When they arrive, they stake the joint for a few minutes,
see if everything looks right.
According to plan, they’ll be in and out in seconds,
then be gone like a cool breeze.
“You ready for this?” Pablo checks in.
“You know it, bro,” says the Beatle. “Hey,” he volunteers,
“I wanted to check: Do you mind if I call you Paul?”
Pablo replies, “Yes.”

Without a hitch, Andy’s place is cleared out, too.
Nothing can stop this Titanic Two. Whoo, these guys are good.
Hope they keep clear of your neighborhood, because I hope you know
that it’s understood that

Good artists borrow; great artists steal.
Good artists borrow; great artists steal.
You may not believe how it’s completely real, but
good artists borrow; great artists steal.

Alas, all good things come to an end
and our amazing geniuses find themselves with their backs
up against a wall against the militia of a powerful nation
who are prepared to take them down – by any means necessary.
“I will not live caged,” explains the elder Mister P.
“I’ve been in a cage all me bloody life,” Senor L responds,
“but I get your point. They won’t take us alive.”

The music swells and they note the cliff behind them as they enter the Pinto
and suddenly they note the coincidental similarities between this
and other buddy tales like Butch and Sundance
and Thelma and Louise and then they realize how
unpronounced either of their accents are,
and that their independent time periods are totally anachronistic.

“Does… does this work out… at all?” Johnny asks.
Pablo looks deep into Johnny’s eyes.
“Everything works out… in Pennsylvania-town.”
and then he guns the car and over the cliff they go.

Good artists borrow; great artists steal.
Good artists borrow; great artists steal.
You may find the sequel more ideal, wherein more
good artists borrow; great artists steal.

I don’t dwell on it
but I worry a bit about my sexual thoughts
and how they’re probably deviant
but then
maybe everyone’s sexual thoughts are deviant
but then again
if everyone’s sexual thoughts are deviant
wouldn’t that make no one’s thoughts deviant?

I think they’re probably vanilla
but unhealthy.
Hurtful. Controlling.
Like I don’t have control in my life
so I want to dominate others.

But I’m a white middle class male.
Why would I think I don’t have control?
What base hypocrisy is this?

Maybe I should shut up about my sexual thoughts
and keep my deviance quiet
so nobody hears about this
ever.

Llama have been used to safeguard livestock
so they have begun to put them on the outposts
of the city to keep us in.
The males are separated from each other
because if they stay together
they tend to bond, and not protect us
from our nature predators,
the Wealthy.

As it stands
the wealthy rarely come to attack us physically,
so the Llamas have taken to studying pricing trends
and insurance scams and other strategies used
to keep us in our place
such as penning us into cities in the first place.
It is ironic that their role as our guardian
leaves them trying to help us
even as they rein us in.

It is a strange world we have
with our new protective llama
and though I could certainly imagine another one
I do not see how it could be quite so soft.