jonberger

There is always work to do
down the streets where you live
and there are always more ways to make money in theory
than in practice.

I am not bilingual enough
for the jobs in my neighborhood
nor skilled enough
in any appropriate way.

I’m working on talent upgrades
to actually be competently qualified
for any of the work
my resume claims I can do
and I need to review all those extra abilities
I intimated,
to ensure that they’re still physically possible
for one such as I.

Prostitution has never worked out for me
the way I’d hoped.
The sexual kind.
Others are just a regular part
of any ordinary day,
of course.

I have a solid single shift of food services
in my past.
I don’t think I could parley that
into a career.

My long-ago days with children
would probably preclude me
from any future education work.

A look in my direction
would stop possible fashion professions.

The more I think
the less there is.

Maybe I could be a life coach?
That seems something I could look into…

The conversation was going well.

She asked questions about me
and I thought about me, then responded.
It was all about me.
Me me me:
a few of my favorite things.

She queried if I sometimes feel untruthful to those around me
and I said there are times when I bring up fairly outlandish topics
and play them off as jokes
but I’m really testing the waters
because I really mean them.

“Could you give me an example?”
she asked.

For moments,
I could not come up with a single one
proving both that
I was untruthful to those around me
and that really, I’m kind of a douche.

After the accident
we were disconsolate
for a little while.

Then, when the android parts were grafted on,
we started getting pretty consolate
after all.

Our little buddy began to come back to us
little by little
in the shape he was before
and soon
when the automatic upgrades began updating
the hardware just went places we didn’t imagine.

His eyesight improved.
He ran stronger.
He could smell from a greater distance
and urine proved iridescent
(We never understood what update
caused that).

It’s like every seven years
your body replaces all the old parts
and grows anew
but he had become something fresh far sooner
with all of his improvements.

We may miss the old Henry
with the four legs and the four feets
and the no assassin attachments
but better to have one Henry
than no Henrys, you know?

The poem you are about to recite is politically incorrect
which isn’t really a problem
– you love that shit.
It might also get you beat up.
That’s cool, too.
Instigating trouble is what it’s all about.

But they might not like you
after they hear it
and that may not be something
you can bear.

The fury is to be expected
but the not liking?
That, somehow, is a bridge too far.
How can you handle the opprobrium,
the remorseless judgement?

Better you skip the whole experience
than dare the raised eyebrows.

It’s important to know that you didn’t break my heart.
You shook up my weekend,
that’s for sure,
and my confidence
took a crazy hit,
but I deserved that.

I didn’t treat you the way you deserved
and maybe it seemed like I didn’t care at first
but you showed me how much I did care.
I cared more than I thought
but not enough to destroy me.
You didn’t destroy me.
I was undestroyed by you
though I was certainly not in good shape.

It was somewhere in between.
I got sick.
I felt bad.
I learned things
but I handled it.
I’m not confused by anything.
It’s important
that you know that.

When you find your people have difficulties
managing aspects of their lives
and you want to help them
you feel a need in your body
to get them the support they require
but you know they have to figure things out
all on their own
because otherwise
they’ll simply be dependent forever,
it’s a painful state.

It’s an ache in you
that you cannot satisfy
a desperate thirst that cannot be quenched.

This wound
may be worse for you
than your people.
They only have the initial problem.
You have that
plus so much more.

When I’m at an open mic
– which I am,
like, most of the time –
and I find that it’s getting late
and I haven’t gone on yet,
I have to start doing the math:

“If I go on in ten minutes,
I then have to stay
about an hour afterwards
because otherwise I’m an asshole.

“But if the thing is winding down by then
and there are only two or three more acts
then I have to stay for them, too,
because it would be an asshole move
to abandon them
when they stayed for everyone else
– unless they came later in the night
and only signed up after they just dropped in
hours after the open mic started.

Then THEY’RE the assholes!”

Of course, since I arrive pretty early
most of the time
I tend to get on pretty early
but there are some open mics
that have a random sign up
so it doesn’t matter when you arrive
and then there are some crazy popular open mics
where even if you arrive promptly,
there are people who arrive super-promptly
and you’re just shit out of luck.

I haven’t been able to do the math for those situations yet.
I’m just an artist after all
– an artist who risks being an asshole.

When you think of your personal best
and find that you’ve been able to beat it
not through a grand accomplishment
but through steady bulldog plugging away,
just nose-to-the-grindstone rubbing at the problem
until the eraser has disappeared to a nub.

Through work and endeavor
you find yourself more excellenter
at metaphor and expression
and getting your point across clearly and directly
without having to beat the point home
through repeatedisms through the block.

And you congratulation yourself for all you’ve done
because you may do it again tomorrow
and Thursday, to boot!

The dungeon’s pipes are clogged again.
No one’s rushing to fix them because
y’know, it’s a dungeon
so the toilet’s backed up
and the stay here has become torturous.

I’ve complained to the guard on duty
this month
but it doesn’t look like
there’s any resolution in sight
or smell.

Good news is:
my weight loss plan is going
better than planned.

I really hope your letters
are allowed in this year.
What’s new out there?

Way up north
in a neighborhood nobody else knows
we congregate near Dan’s
waiting for the gang to get together
so we can head for ice cream
only to discover that it hasn’t opened for the season yet.

We should’ve known.
Nothing happens in this little inlet
without an announcement.

We would have heard when the ice cream shop opened.

So we’re at the park
wasting and procrastinating
and wondering how the sunny day
is gonna end
and we think that this is what Spring will be like
when it comes
and wonder if maybe we should be checking our phones
to see if our parents need us
but probably not.

We’re OK.
We’ve got hours before anything needs to happen.
We’re kids.
We’re all right.