A Pictorial History of Chair Occupation.
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As I recall,
it was only a series of photographs.
A sofa seat with room for one,
you, reading the book
I recommended.
Me, on the floor
with Bukowski, who you would borrow
when I was finished with him.
And you leaned into me.
Just a tiny bit.
You, on your feet.
You were leaving. "I'm taking your chair."
You said go ahead.
I stayed where I was.
Genuinely.
Me, on the floor.
An empty chair. I wouldn't move.
I didn't know why, I swear:
it was unconscious until you asked me.
Then I knew.
You, coming back.
"Why aren't you in the chair?"
I wanted you to have it. I wanted
to stay on the floor. I wanted
you to come back, and trust me
again.
You, sitting in the chair.
Me, on the floor. You sit down,
and you lean into me. Again.
It is okay. We are breathing
in unison, and I love you
correctly.
-e.
