The Chair

From the other side of the door              

I could hear her moving the chair

across the floor

She had placed it in the hall

perhaps too carefully

I entered and pulled out

my tape measure

explained to her

the importance of seat height

a sled base versus casters

she doesn’t wonder at my interest

in chairs

but rather seems to want more

of something

as we stand in the hall and talk

she’s moving to D.C.

to study clinical psych

her words are measured

her reactions fixed casters

yet she’s moving away

and the chair is too small

as it sits slightly angled

like a dog who doubts he is loved

perhaps I will find two strips of wood

to elevate the base

such things can be done

if sitting weren’t so important

she would probably stay

I’d refuse to leave too

and the summer would flee

as we stood in the hall

yet down three flights of stairs

in the light of the street

nobody can sit

without wondering

where their small hopes have fled

tonight ours speak softly

through the shiny brass keyholes

of a three-story walkup in Chinatown