jonberger

The dancing man came undone at one.
It’s hours later now, and the sun
has undergone a change and hid.
The day is over and the man’s kid
wonders where his daddy went.
No answers given clearly; the boy is sent
out to quest for his broken father
if only to delay all of his acts of pother.

The son, named Sean, looks headlong for his pa
but everywhere he goes, no one tells him, “Ya!
I know the man of which you speak right now.
He sleeps past yonder gate, and anyhow,
I’d like to offer room and board.
Because there’s naught that you’ll afford.”
No, no one says a word of use to him.
The prospects for this boy are looking pretty dim.

But finally, young Sean has found a lead!
A man seems like his Dad in looks and word and deed
and so the kid goes off to find the man
and bring him home as quickly as he can.
He fights a dragon; He fights a duck.
He makes a wizard look just like a schmuck.
He sees his papa; and they reconcile.
They dance together for a quite long while.

And so they start their long slow travel home.
It will take them thrice the time to roam
and will be a less important tale
that being told, ne’er need be availed.
For the good stuff’s happened; all that’s left is cake.
You needn’t stick so all your thirsts be slaked.
You can go about your business now, my friend.
The dad and son have had a happy end.

Bart wanted to talk to Will
because of his brother, Alvin.
John tried to stop him. I was John.
“You said retard!” Bart shouted slushily.
“What?” said Will.
“In your set,” Bart continued, as I held him back,
“You said the word ‘retard,’ and you totally lost me.”
“Oh,” Will smiled, “Well, thanks for watching.
You can follow me on Instagram.”
Then he returned to his conversation.

“But -” Bart said, but I interrupted him.
“Let it go,” I guided him to the bar and got him a Sprite.
“Limon is the secret of Sprite.”
“Carbonation is the secret of Sprite,” he replied.
“Don’t tell.”
Bart’s brother has Down’s Syndrome, so he doesn’t like the word retard or retarded,
or much of anything denigrating to the differently-abled community.
He wasn’t in a position to express it concisely after eight shots and four pints, though.

And Will looked like he worked out.
“I wanna tell him something!” Bart said.
“Drink your Sprite,” was my best reply.

By the time the Sprite was gone, so was Will,
so the conversation was never completed.
“How inconvenient.” I exclaimed. “Maybe next time.”
Bart tried to agree, but his head was drooping.

We barely chatted about it on the way to the train.

For one so unfashionable,
I own quite a lot of clothes.
I’ve got maybe fifty pairs of underwear.
They’re not all in excellent condition;
some of them are pretty ratty.

I can’t bear to part with clothing
until they’re in tatters, though,
so I wear ’em until they’re worn out
– and then a few years beyond.

I get resistant to wearing the uncomfortable stuff
after a while
and there are kinds that I’ve bought
that never were too great for me.
I have some elastic materials that are too shiny
and tight for my regular use
but for sporting occasions
I may pull them out
and I have Christmas boxers
that make little sense in July.

Most of my gear can be worn year round,
however crappy it is, though.
I’m glad to use them until death,
however many lifetimes it may take.

There are things I used to do
that I am doing again:
I am writing
I am reading
I am performing.

I am sleeping late
I am eating excessively
I am spending too much money.

I am worrying about the things I am not doing
taking notes of activities that should be filling my days
instead of making lists of my accomplishments.

I am drifting off-course.

I am becoming what I once was
which is not what I want to be.
I want to become myself
from a different time, so:
I want to be who I was,
not who I was
(We need more tenses
in the language
– as if I weren’t tense enough).

I know the process never ends,
that I’ll never finish transforming,
but it would be nice

if I could settle somewhere
good.

It has been hard to focus lately
because it has been hard to wake up lately
because it has been hard to go to sleep lately
because it has been hard to settle my stomach lately
because it has been hard to say no to any foods being offered lately.

It may be that a lack of concentration has been making it harder
to say no to the plethora of foods being offered to me lately
but probably, it’s just about gluttony.

Also, there have been times, the last couple of days,
when I know I don’t really want to eat again,
but it seems socially difficult to not be knoshing,
gnashing my teeth,
joshing around the table with friends.

I’m out with someone, and they’re ordering food,
and I can’t just sit there, staring at them.
So I order twenty buffalo wings, to be polite,
even though I’d just had breakfast
half an hour before.

These are behaviors I thought I had put behind me
but these are now behaviors
that I’m putting before me
into my stomach.

I am not proud
but I am not stopping
and because of it
I am not sleeping well.

I really thought I was going to get away with it
and I had no guilt about it.
I was going to totally take advantage
with no compunctions,
no shame,
and instead,
I’m being taken advantage of
and I gotta tell you,
it doesn’t feel too good.

There’s an obvious lesson here,
but if anybody tries to bring it up,
I will be dealing out smacks
and having no compunctions
about that, either.

She’s a little too buzzed to travel alone
so we drive home together.

It’s quieter than usual.
She’s worried about what she’s taken.
“I seem to be vibrating.”
“I think that’s just the car.”
“Oh.”
We lapse back into the silent mode.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,
taking that pill.
I’m too old for that kind of shit.”
“It’s a special day.
You’re allowed to splurge on days like this.”
“I appreciate you driving me,” she says.
“Sure.”

The rain continues on this special day.
We stop along the way
to get some water
and some cake.
It’s ugly out
so we partake within the car.

Eventually, we arrive
back at her place
where she disembarks,
stumbles,
and heads into her apartment.

I go the rest of the way to my home
alone.

Despite all the evidence I have shown
I appreciate you.
Regardless of the things I have said about you
to your face, behind your back,
in the papers and talking smack,
I think you’re kind of groovy.
There’s something about you,
something ineffable,
that makes me glad to know you
if only sometimes.

So thanks for being around
sometimes.

Special emphasis
on the last.

It’s a brand new day.
I’m scattering clouds of last night’s sleep out of my mind’s way.
Things can’t go wrong.
That’s why I’m up and dancing and singing this new day song.
Morning’s gonna be great.
Gotta get my ass out of here, ensure I won’t be late.
Tripping down each stair.
Breaking out the door to breathe the crisp, outside-world air.

See what the sun conveys… on this brand new day!
Nothing stands in my way… on this brand new day!
See the sunlight’s rays… on this brand new day!
Life’s a rich buffet… on this brand new day!

Work is nothing but fun.
Meeting and greeting all the folks – and making friends with everyone.
Doing things you like
at a job you believe in can get you really psyched.
The neighborhood is great.
It seems like being here at this time of year has been an act of fate.
Can’t wait for the day to end.
So I can go through it, every part of it, all over again and again and again and again…

A positive display… on this brand new day!
Everything’s OK… on this brand new day!
Life is bright and gay… on this brand new day!
Let’s go out and play… on this brand new day!

I have a tendency
to leave late in the game.
I find it hard to leave from things
because I want to make sure
I have gotten my money’s worth at an event.

Conversely, I want to ensure that my hosts
have experienced all they can from me
as a guest before I depart.
I want to guarantee my presence has been well felt.
So I’ll often be the last one to exit the party
waiting until that false yawn is performed.
I may be looking for it
so I can make my getaway.

I don’t know how I came to be this person
or how I can change it.
I don’t know how I became so
unmalleable.
I don’t know how I can change more.

Would that I could depart this kind of person
and arrive in a new form
a better one.

What would I be then?