| Jonathan Berger's Poetry: Poem of the Day |
| MIRRORS There’s a full-length mirror in the bathtub so that when I take a shower I can see everything I can see all of me I’m talking about my pee pee. What kind of a sick fuck designed this place? I don’t know about anyone else, but I consider my dick the surest sign of my weakness my insufficiency my lack and my want. My penis is part and parcel of all that makes me puny – am I right, guys? Now, I honestly don’t know how I stack up against the median – I was home-schooled and I can’t afford a gym; so, unless I ever get invited to one of those legendary circle jerks a friend of a friend once heard about (Oh, why can’t I be part of that scene?) – all I ever see is a tiny flap of meat, dangly and diminished hot-doggy, and I think and I wish, “There must be something more than this.” Even it’s frequent change of dimension points poorly back to me. Can’t my body even make up its mind what it’s supposed to be? It’s not like my feet suddenly go rock solid at the most inconvenient times… Well, OK, that once… All of this flashes before my eyes in this damnable shower as I regularly flash me. I am persecuted by an architect who wants to shame me to shrink me to separate my psyche from my cock. The builder was probably a woman. Damn her! And damn me, for being so small (Oh, why must I be fourteen inches?) |