jonberger

I’m not sure
if I can trust what I’m seeing,
‘cause if it’s true, then what I’m feeling’s
justified, and now I’m reeling.
Soon enough, I’ll be kneeling.

Is this real?
It sure seems amazing, here.
Is it real?
I’m beyond darkness and fear.
Is it real?
For the first time in some years
I’m seeing clear. It’s so weird.
Is it real? Is it real? Is it real?

Can I believe?

Well, I surely do hope so.
Looks can deceive,
but I really want to know
how to receive
the information that’s bestowed
so I can take all of this in and perceive.

Is this real?
Please, let it be!
Is this real?
If it is, I’ll feel so free!
Is this real?
It would be the best for me
if this were real. Is it real? Is it real?

The little ghosts swirl around me this morning
the boys and girls that I could have known
had I made this or that connection
with this or that woman
at this or that point.

Entirely fictional children
come to life
this hazy day
out of nothing but lost potential
which seems to be most of what I have.

Nathaniel likes sailboats
controlled remotely
but doesn’t like to share.

Samantha Junior is shy
even sullen
and prone to reading in the closet.
She wouldn’t go out to the park with me
even if I begged.

Jacob and Jackie, ubermensch twins,
roughhouse all over the place,
and need to be taken out all the time,
lest they break the apartment in two.
Still, the place is a shambles.

As I view the little ghosts
in all their shameless specificity,
I come to realize that they’re actually kind of shitty.
I sort of dodged bullets with them.
Better off to be alone
away from the specters
of families lost.

I go home to an afternoon movie and Coke.

Delicious and quiet.

"You wanna go for a walk? He asked.
"I could go for a walk," I said.
"Let’s go."

We walked fast. And when I say fast,
I mean fast, F-A-S-T.

Things were disappearing behind us rapidly.
I’d see them for a second and they were gone,

like, immediately.

There was whooshing in my ears
and then a pulsing sound.

Conversation diminished.
I found it harder to breathe.
I could swear I saw my nose flare.

I think there were new colors in the sky.
The sun seemed to be moving across

at a faster sort of speed.

Was the day progressing differently?
Was the sound of the city getting more… chirpy?

The walk progressed.
Newspapers floated by.
So did calendar pages.
I couldn’t get a good look at them
but I suspected weeks were passing.
Time was marching as we moved.

I suspect my thigh
was just about to bulge out of my pants.
It was weird.
"You about ready
to take it up a notch?" He asked.
"Why… haven’t we… yet?" I exhaled.
He shrugged.

We continued.

I do not remember the rest of that year.

Tough day?
Look on your face leaves you wondering

just who died?
I won’t keep you in suspense.

The historical dead of April sixth are as follows:
Igor Stravinsky
Tammy Wynette
Isaac Asimov
Mickey Rooney

Ray Charles
Merle Haggard
and Don Rickles

It wasn’t an attack on one big party.
They all met their individual ends
alone and apart from one another.
Still, quite a day to die, eh?

How are you?
Check yourself out.
You hope that you’re alright.
You look at your reflection for some confirmation
and it’s giving you something else again.
The mirror’s telling you "No."

The you you see
does not agree
with your request for confirmity.
You want to be approved by what you survey
but it seems to be going quite another way.
The mirror, quite clearly, claims, "Nay."
You’re looking bad today.

Wish there was more to do
but the mirror’s given its review.
However you may cry and hue
the foot may wear another shoe.
Your reverse looks like a dope.
The mirror blasts to you a "Nope."

Sorry. We’ve got the answer.
How are you?
Take a look at yourself.
You’re bad.
You’re sad.
It’s a tad too late to change the state;
The mirror has denigrated you.

I notice you’re not composing so much anymore.
I’m of two minds about that:
on the one hand, I’m really sad
because that brought you joy
and you were good at it
and everyone who has a creative bone
should be stretching that bone
even if that’s a mixed metaphor
that should be straightened out.

On the other hand,
you were really good,
and I sure don’t need the competition out there,
so I’m perfectly happy that you’re not out,
stealing my spotlight.

But it wouldn’t be fair
if I didn’t let you know how good you were
when you were being you
at your best,
how you shined
and how great it would be
if you shined again.

You made all our colors more vivid.

The bands you are in are many.
How did you get so many bands?
Why are there so many people who want to work with you?
Is it because you are talented? Many people are talented!
Is it because you are flexible? Many people are flexible!
Is it because you compose like a champ?
How does a champ compose, anyway?

It seems like jazz players can be in bands
at the drop of a hat,
but maybe don’t call them bands
because that’s not the tradition.
Maybe it’s the naming convention that’s different here
and that’s all that’s different.
Are you a jazzbo in another’s body?
Is that what’s going on?
Why is there so MUCH of you?
Hey! Don’t run away when I’m asking you questions!
I’m asking you questions here!

Thank you very much for the offer, Mister Devil, sir,but I don’t believe I shall take you up on it,
at least not at this time.
Your terms are very compelling,
and I should like to consider it
for another occasion,
if you don’t mind.

No, I appreciate your persistence…
you really are good at your job,
but I’m afraid I’m going to have to put my foot down
and resist your marketing push.

We can revisit this later, Beelzebub.

So, look, I’ve got another call coming in,
and – yes, I understand –
but, if you… uh huh… right.
Mmm hmm.
Got it.

We’ll talk later.

He doesn’t talk to me today
and I don’t know why.
For me to ask why he isn’t talking to me
is to name it
and if I’m wrong and he is talking to me,
it’s just that he hasn’t spoken to me lately,
then I’ll feel like a fool,
but if he isn’t talking to me, he may still deny
that he isn’t talking to me if I just say, directly,
“Why aren’t you talking to me?”

It’s not like he’s the only one.
I am not without sin
and I have alienated many a former friend.
I have also simply phased out friendships
with cadres of quondam comrades
because they weren’t convenient.
Could this be why I’ve heard nothing?
I’ve heard NOTHING from him.

Pretty sure I won’t be getting any answers
this way
so maybe it’s time
to try something else.

I look at it differently today.
Then, I was disappointed,
maybe hurt, although
I didn’t admit that to myself.

After dark, at the uptown Ninety Sixth Street red line,
I was waiting for the One train
with a lot of other folks.
I thought I recognized one from high school.

She wasn’t someone I knew,
but someone I had seen in school productions,
one of the stars of musical theater,
a year older than me.
I was pretty sure it was her.

I went up to introduce myself.
“Excuse me…” I said, and she moved out of my way,
but her body language was entirely closed off.
She was not going to have any conversation with me.

I don’t know how I was so sure
not to further approach her.
I just slunk away
and waited for the train
at a distance.

From a more modern lens,
it makes all the sense in the world
to give a woman her space
if she shows any sign of not wanting a stranger’s attention.
She had no idea that we might have known each other.
Point of fact, we didn’t know each other.
I thought her name was Seka,
but I wasn’t sure of it then
and I’m not sure of it now.