jonberger

“The writing’s on the wall,” she said,
“If you don’t help me, I am out”
and strode past many dozens dead.
“The writing’s on the wall,” she said,
again – still uttered without dread
lacking bleats and weep and pouts,
“the writing’s on the wall,” she said,
“If you don’t help me, I am out.”

It’s rare to be recognized for your own unique self.
“Is Jon Berger here tonight?”
“That’s me!”
“Because I saw his name on the list, and I was just looking around…”
“It’s me. I’m here!”
“Great. It’s me, Baby Monroe.”
I knew. Baby Monroe was one of the stars
of the AntiFolk scene before my time.

He’s mentioned recognizing me a couple of times before.
Maybe I wasn’t a sweaty mess on those other occasions.
“Great to see you,” he said.
“I’ll see you at the club,” I said.
We parted ways.
He recognized me!

Sort of.

Barely scraping by, I wonder what I will be able
to pull together today.
I hear screeches out my door. I hope that no more
will follow as the woman passes by
but she may continue
as she walks on this empty Sunday street.
I do not know if she will pass by my window sill
again this evening. I’m hoping hers was a one-way path.
There is little left to say, but I’ll continue anyway,
since I’ve got an urge to get to the end of the line
which I guess has happened.

There are so many things you know are right
but you are simply not prepared to invest in:
getting a good night’s sleep
applying the Golden Rule
returning the cart to the front of the store
being a vegan
not murdering someone who cuts you off on the thruway
using the metric system.

It is simply hard to make these actions a priority
but it would be good to try.
These are points toward getting you
into
your non-denominational heaven
should you even believe in such a thing.

As a guy who can’t do one of the items mentioned
I encourage you to do all of them
and many more
on your way to being a better person.
It will do you no end of good.

So go.
Get to work!

Seven years and seven days later,
the random girl who remembered my name
came back to an open mic.

"John, right?"
"Jon," I revised, and immediately chided myself for being snarky.
I was going to be cool this time.
I wasn’t going to mess this up. I wasn’t going to deny knowing her
like last time
or debate whether she meant me when she said she recognized me.

I wouldn’t tell her I’m driving tonight if she offered a drink
or that I don’t like mocha flavor if she asked me out to coffee.
I’d be confident and cool and polite and inquisitive
and through this internal monologue she waved off and left the club.

Not a problem though.

I’m sure I’ll see her again
in another seven days
and seven years.

I worry about what you’re doing,
how you’ve been.
From what I’ve seen, something’s amiss,
and you appear to be just spinning in place.
Am I mistaken, or are you going somehow wrong?
I don’t want to step on toes,
but you don’t seem at your best.

Please, prove me incorrect.
Step out of here.
Disappear from these environs
and go somewhere else where you fit more fully.
You can belong somewhere better than here
– you more than the rest of us.

Find your place.
Leave.

Because of a slight change
I slept well last night.

I do not know if I’ll be able to repeat the results:
will the same small change prove useful again
or will I have to change something new
to get me another good night’s sleep?

Tonight will tell me, of course,
but only through my scientific query.

The lies we share
across platforms constantly
shifting with loyalties
leave us slick.

I blind myself
to what wets us,
lying while laying,
ignorant, beautiful, filthy.

I’m sure I’m wrong
and treasonous, cruel,
along with others.
Freedumb saves me.

Jake’s Tale: I was going to meet Hal to see Rashomon,
but the guy in the booth didn’t have change for a ticket
so I went next door to the stationary shop to get change.
I had to buy a soda since they wouldn’t just give me change.
That’s why I was late to meet Hal.

Alicia’s Tale:
Cute guy comes in, asking if he can break a twenty dollar bill.
I tell him I can’t do that. He says it’s so he can buy a ticket
for a movie next door. I say I feel for him,
but policy is I can’t make change without a purchase.
He gets testy and says what can he buy. I shrug my shoulders
and say “Maybe a soda?”
He picks out a Mister Pibb. I give him seventeen fifty for his twenty,
and he’s out the door like Meat Loaf on to his next sandwich.

Thurston’s Tale: When Jake tried to buy his ticket for Rashomon,
I’d just provided all my change to a bunch of kids coming in to see
the new Warners Brothers Meets the Commies jam.
Lotta kids are coming in for that; they all needed change.
I couldn’t give Jake change for his ticket, so I asked him to go
and get change so I could keep working for the rest of the day.
I guess he could have charged his ticket,
but nobody thought of that then.
When he came back, he brought a soda with him.

Now, you can’t bring outside consumables into a theater.
Everybody knows that. So he had to finish the soda before entering.
I watched him finish the liter drink before he could go in
with his new ticket. Seemed pissed.

Hal’s Tale: Jake was a little late to get into Rashomon. No biggie.

Guy’s motorbike glanced off of my car.
It was racing toward it
but turned at the last instant.

Took him a minute or so to say
if he was all right.
“I’m good, but I’ll need some money to fix up the bike.”
“After you ran into me? I don’t think so.”
He had a bunch of friends. If they were gonna threaten me,
I was dead.

One of them talked to him for a second.
Then he nodded to me, “All right.”
I’d already checked. The car was all right.
I got out of there.

As I drove home, I wondered if I was being followed.
Nothing when I reached the house, though.
Maybe the incident was all over
as soon as it begun.