jonberger

The guard at the Stephen A. Schwarzman Library Building
didn’t want me sitting on the floor.
He didn’t want me plugging in my computer.
In fact, I couldn’t work on my computer
in the hallway.
I had to go upstairs to a different room
to use my computer
and not use it where I was,
though I was waiting for a meeting to start
precisely where I was.
When I asked the guard why
he was proscribing my behaviors
he didn’t seem to understand the question.

“Is there a reason,” I clarified, “Why I shouldn’t be on the floor?
Or opening a computer? Or plugging it in?”
“Because…” he said haltingly, “It just isn’t done.”
“Because you won’t let it,” I helped him. “Do you know why?”
I knew I was risking expulsion from the library,
but I somehow doubted it would come to that
– and I was right. The guard didn’t have the proactive spirit
to do anything to me.

He didn’t have any answer for my question, though, either.

These streets are not what they were,
as far as I can remember.
The times they been a’changin’.
The bookstore district has become the derelicts district,
and I can’t find a hoagie to save my life.
All that’s left are Subway shops.

I do not like this, Sam-I-Am.

I don’t know why the world couldn’t stay
exactly the way I left it
when I last cared about these streets
twenty two years ago.
Wouldn’t everything be better
if it were etched in amber?

This is rhetorical, of course.
The answer is an obvious “Yes!”

You were a lovely bride.
I think back to that day
and the hope we had then
and before
and how it transformed
not so slowly
into this final state.

We will not see each other after today,
I suspect,
as it is unlikely
that both of us will leave here
with the capacity for further communication.

I am sorry about this
for I still think of a version of you fondly.
I would wish the bride well
should I see her again.

Now, though,
let us get to this last combat between us:
Sign here.

I got a cap that fits me
it’s the best thing ever, man!
No longer do my ears stick out
like god’s most foolish plan.
I can wear this hat since yesterday
and will tomorrow, too!
I love this cap that fits me.
I think it’s big on you.

My head, you see, is extra-sized,
like maybe two of yours.
It’s been my burden for a while.
Until this cap, of course.
Now, I can hide it at will,
and have, and will again.
I’ve got a cap that fits me
and I love it so, my friend!

I wanted to write something about toast
but I’ve got nothing to say about toast.
Maybe I could talk about making a toast.

I did that once at a wedding.
It was pretty traumatic.
I don’t think I want to talk about making a toast.

I could talk about making toast.
That seems an easier topic to broach.
My toaster-oven tends to overheat
and makes things toastier
than necessary.
I get burnt bread more than I’d like,
which is never.

This topic seems to have run its course.

I could discuss eating toast,
which really should have been the first place
I’d have thought of going.
Damn it, brain!
Why do you make it so hard on yourself?

When my mummy, no dummy
would make me cinnamon toast,
with the butter and the bread
and the cinnamon and the sugar
and the heat and the love,
it worked out better than anything I could do.
She’s the cook in the family.

I like toast.

Yeah, I think I got it.

Yesterday was April Fools,
a fact I did not pay attention to
while this cute girl was all on top of me.
It is something I only thought of
after the clock struck midnight
and I realized that the fool was I.

Me.
The fool was me.

It was a very witty jape
I suppose
had I been of a mind for such things.
I was just not considering jokes
yesterday
as much as I should.

We come together and we say how great he was
and we say how there is one less of us now
and we say that our number is dwindling
and how we only meet on these occasions
and not on more pleasant days
but we are the ones who choose the occasions
on which to meet
and we can make the time to change the frequency
and the cause.

We have that power
if we have the will.

Now
is the time
to have that will.

Where are you tonight? Have you made it back home?
Are you still on the road, out producing that tome?
Do you still have to write, letting all the words flow?
Tell me: when will you stay? Why must you always go?

Does the Beat call you still, taking you far away,
coercing you to leave? Causing you to now stray?
Will you never stay mine? Will you always depart,
leave for areas unknown, with a part of my heart?

Is our status always gonna be unravelling
with you constantly in the world, traveling?
Don’t you find it the least bit challenging,
to be constantly in the world, traveling?

Can’t you ever come out? See the world and its worth?
All the measures of pleasures here on Goddess’ Earth!
You’ve a window of view; just open and peer.
Take a fresh breath and leave the house and walk on the sphere!

We could wander forever on this planet of ours.
I don’t need to leave you to go write my memoirs.
Come out and join me; think how happy we’d be!
We’d be out forever in this world migrationally!

I know that you’ve been spending time wondering
if I’m ever gonna stop my wandering.
Really, those years you’ve been squandering
when we could have been out wandering.
We could have been out there wandering.
We could have been out there wandering.

Why are you frowning?
You’ve been offered a special opportunity
by a very special lady
yet you don’t seem to be reacting
in an especially positive way.
That frown, in fact, looks positively negative.

What’s keeping you down, sport?

Is it that you don’t appreciate
what’s on offer?
Or that you don’t like the questions
it raises for you,
the choices it brings up?

Does this opportunity
make you realize
that you have decisions to make
quickly
and you don’t know what your choice is,
or even what all the options are.
You may not be positive about the question.

You know that you’re uncomfortable
though intrigued
and that despite yourself,
you’re frowning.
You don’t know
what’s next.

You stare before you
and see a funhouse mirror image. 
A handsomer, taller,
more talenteder and stronger funhouse mirror image. 
Only, upon reflection (ha ha)
maybe you’re the reflection
and he’s the original,
what with he being the better at everything
far as you can see. 

His smile shines brighter
his teeth seem whiter
his armor seems knighter,
it all just comes together on him
in a way it never does for you,
like he’s a master version
and you’re just a bad rip off,
a pale reflection. 

Who wants a third generation
when the prime material is available?
The cheap.
The weak.
The weird. 
But there’s no accounting for taste. 
If someone cares to make the stupid choice
and pick you over the obviously superior other…
who are you to judge?

Nobody.