jonberger

The flashbacks are very rare
really just quick snaps of images
gone before I can think of them fully,
and they’ve faded greatly over time.

Still, I haven’t completely forgotten the partial day
I worked at a Special Education Day Care
up in Massachusetts, right out of college.

I was looking for employment
doing anything. I sought work as an assistant
as a security guard, as a mental health counselor,
as an educator, and, apparently, as a day worker
at a daycare facility.

The kids were tiny
and there were a lot of us
to care for them,
maybe one for every three of them.
There were learning problems among the children
but also a lot of physical issues.
In my flashbacks, I see images of lionitis,
like from the movie Mask.
I also see partially collapsed skulls.
I don’t know what that’s associated with.

We would play games with the kids,
guiding them around a park-like campus,
and I remember helping them to eat.
This is all shrouded in a haze of thirty three years passing.
During the day, everything seemed perfectly all right,

but the state of the kids struck me as undeniably sad
afterward.
Their physical issues burned within me,
less and less, until today.

I did not go back.
I don’t remember even considering it.
I soon found two jobs, one full time
and one part-time
and was able to fill my days
away from the children
that obviously needed someone
but someone who didn’t feel
quite so horrified in their presence.

I hope the school is doing well.

The amount of food services work I have done
amounts to almost zero
but I’ve spent a couple hours here and there
working as a dishwasher.

My friend Ruthie worked at the dining commons
at school and when I finished my meals
I would talk to her while she was washing dishes.
Occasionally, when the conversation was taking too long,
I would just cross to the other side of the wall
and join her doing dishes.

There was someone cute sharing shifts with Ruthie
who never said much to me.
She must have been nervous in my presence.

When Ruthie became a manager,
I think she asked me once to work a shift
as a dishwasher, rather than just do
an hour or two for fun.
I won’t say I was glad to do it,
but it was an interesting time.

I got wet.

Most of my work has been a bit higher up the food chain,
so my understanding of restaurant employment
is thus somewhat limited.
Still, I have those precious moments to hold onto
to remember what it was like
all those years ago
and how it was
to wipe the filth away.

I let the dogs off the leash
so they could run
as fast as they wanted
while I biked alongside them
in my industrial neighborhood.
If I did it early in the morning
or late at night
there wouldn’t be enough people around
to judge my actions
or ticket me for leashless behavior.

While holding them,
they would constantly pull against me.
It was stressful for all of us
and didn’t yield desired results.
If I got on the bike, they would follow me
at a speedy clip,
getting the kind of exercise they sought
without straining anybody’s bodies.
I liked the fact that I got exercise, too
– and I saw more of my neighborhood than usual.
Winning all around.

Heading back to my building
we saw a feral cat.
It wasn’t the first time
we’d seen an animal in our travels.
They’d see a bird, hurtle towards it,
and the bird would fly away.
They’d see a squirrel, jump at it,
and the squirrel would scurry up the nearby tree.

The dogs went after the cat
who naturally dashed for a nearby fence.
He didn’t make it.
Instead of playfully pushing the creature
back and forth between them,
the proto-wolves I was caring for
savaged the cat.

“What?!” I moved in to pull them away
from their thrashing and biting,
but when I said “No!” and let them go
they started up again.

I watched the critter breathe its last
because the dogs had obeyed their instincts.
“Bad dogs,” I muttered, but I was thinking,
“Dumb boy.”

I found a box for the cat,
as if that was showing appropriate respect
for the slaughter committed unto him.
I bagged the box, and put it into the garbage.

I am so sorry for what I was a party to,
you formerly free creature.
You deserved better.

Just because the gauntlet is thrown
doesn’t mean you have to rise to the bait.
Just because you have been dared
doesn’t mean you have to accept it.
Just because there’s been a challenge
you don’t have to take it.
Just because all your friends have jumped off the bridge
doesn’t mean you need to split your skull open, too.

Please don’t split your skull open, too.

I think when I accomplished my greatest poetical feat
(I wrote over 465 different pieces in April, 2009
{don’t ask me how many of them were any good}),
I was in the process of trying to attempt
to impress a couple of girls.

It may have succeeded,
though I don’t know how much
the impressed girls would have cared
about the accomplishment
they witnessed.
I’m not much in touch with either of them now,
fifteen years later.

I may be in a position
to be able to match that kind of prolificacy
this April,
during National Poetry Writing Month,
though it may well be International Poetry Writing Month, as well.
There is no one to dedicate this effort to, though.

I don’t think that will stop me, though.
I may have to do it for myself
this time around.

I guess that’ll have to do.

You’re looking down. Know I’m around and that I’m here.
If you’ve got troubles I’ll be with you, never fear,
Is something wrong? If there’s a problem, I can help.
I’ll be supportive and not treat you like a whelp.

Let me know, buddy, I’m your understudy. We’ll work it out.
I’ve got it figured, if you need me, give a twisted shout.
You can talk to me, just like John Lennon said.
Of course, the difference is: I’m living, he is dead.

There are people lonely, you’re simply not the only one.
If that’s the problem, come to me! We’ll have some fun.
I can drive your car, we can go far, just tell me where.
We’ll go the distance; visit anyone. I swear.

I’m here to help, because I love you. Yes, I do.
That’s all you need. Aw, yeah… that much is true.
I know you’re feeling bad. I want to end your dread
’cause you can talk to me, just like John Lennon said.

Today I checked out the estate.
It is large, as expected.
It is strange, as expected.
There was a staff,
as one would anticipate
on a property of size.

There were the unsurprising freeloaders
both in the house
and surrounding it.
And there was a surprising amount of work to be done
all over the place.

For such an impressive place
so much of it appeared to require change.

I may not understand the aristocracy
as well as I thought I might
but it was fascinating,
at least,
to be among them
if only for a moment.

You wait on the line
and you wonder who you have become.
You never used to wait on lines.
You were beyond such things
yet now here you are
standing here like a fucking drone.

These new flavors had better be worth it.
It is here that you spy
the latest in headphone technology
disguised as the latest in helmet technology.

Covering a full 80 percent of her face
you can hear the sound she’s getting.
It’s ear splitting.
You have to have this.

So after you get the amazing yogurt
with the finest mix-ins,
you figure out where the helmet/headphones
can be attained
and you get on that line.
So what if the line is longer than the last?
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

The line moves swiftly.
Upon purchase, you hear insurance is a steal,
but it requires validation,
which necessitates a third line.
It’s shorter, but moves slower,
and on it, you meet someone.

Someone special.
Someone you like who you are with.
Someone you think it’s pretty important
you take blood tests with
right away.

You have no idea how many more lines
this is gonna require,
but you’re pretty sure
the rest of your day is booked.

When were you last in a place like this:
a gigantic, rocking, aching, smelly
construction trawling across the water?
Has it been a year?
Has it been ten?

Good gods, has it been ten?
You think you might not have walked upon a boat like this
in many many years.
But then, what would call you
across the water in this way?

What excellent offers are proffered before you
to incentivize your voyage?
You cannot say
for as a seer once spoke:
“If you say the wish out loud,
it won’t come true.”
And anyway, no one else would care.
But you’re sure that treasures indeed
will be found for the taking.

So off you go:
a middle-aged man across the water
and you can see fairly well
to where you’re going to.

I remember it like it was thirty years ago:
I was at UCLA for the summer
and Big Daddy was playing at
a music store
but one of my cohort needed a ride to the airport.
No problem. I could do it all.

Except the friend going to the airport was running late
– not a problem for her; the plane was also late.
But it played havoc with my schedule.
I dropped her right around
when was supposed to set off
but maybe if I rushed I could catch some of the set.

If only I knew LA
and its ability to snarl up traffic on a dime.
Also, I got lost
a couple of times.

I was able to see people
who looked like Big Daddy
congratulating each other after playing
but I heard no music played
– no live music, at least.

Maybe next show, I thought.
It’s their town,
there’s a whole summer.
I’ll get to see them again.
I never saw them again.

There’s something in all this,
a lesson about responsibility
and self-interest.
Maybe it’s important.
Probably its crap.