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     “The Chair”
 
She had sat
in the same
chair
through out
the whole
night
trying to
untangle
all her dreams
out of the
webs
of her reality,
even
the small
dreams
she tries to
make happen
never seemed
to drop
into place
for her,
her T.V.
still on the
same channel
since sunset
yesterday
QVC
a shopping network
from which
she’s never
bought a thing
from
she just likes
the feeling
that someone’s
there
talking to her,
she readjusts
her body
in the big
chair
her back now
laying against
one of the
overstuffed
armrests
as one of her
legs
hangs over
the other
as she scribbles
down
her thoughts
trying to free
her mind
jar it loose
from the muck
of a static
life,
she puts together
some words
transferring
her fears
and fantasies
on to paper
trying to expose
the inner turnings
of the gears
in her head
she reads them
back to herself
out loud
hoping to find
a profound
statement
hidden somewhere
among her
hastily written
lines
but nothing
seems to fall
from all the
letters
she has
gathered
together,
she looks up
at the ceiling
as she
stretches out
across the top
of the two
puffy armrests
of her chair
while listening to
the sounds from
her T.V. set
in the back
round
the gentle voice
of a middle aged
woman
whose soft tones
make her feel
like she’s not
sitting here alone
as the sun
starts to push
it’s way
in to the
room
bringing with
it’s light
a couple of
creative ideas
that turn her
unconnected
sentences
into a reflective
piece
that captures
her current
dark mood
merging with
the promises
of a new day
in her own
special way,
she feels
it’s quite
unique
and personal
she signs her
name
at the bottom
of her poem
then turns her
head
resting her
left cheek
on the armrest
she looks back
over
at the T.V.
an unspoken
word of thanks
to the lady
from QVC
for hanging out
with her
throughout the
long night
then she grabs
the remote
turning off
the T.V.
pulls her hair
out from under
her head
and lets it
cascade over
the armrest
throws her
second leg
over the
other armrest
letting her
feet dangle
below
as she closes
her eyes
thinking about
life
and why it
seems that
lately
she’s spending
so much of
it
in this chair
staring at the
ceiling,
a brush of
light
is painted
across
her body
striking the
cover
of her dog
eared
notebook
filled with all
her secrets
and hidden
truths
for which she
has never found
anyone
she trusted
deep enough
to share with,
but that’s a
poem
to be written
after another
long night
as she pulls
her notebook
to her chest
and crosses
her arms
over it
holding it
tightly
against her
body,
maybe
someday soon
she thinks
maybe soon
as she turns
on
the T.V.
once again
and goes back
to staring at
the ceiling
as the friendly
voice
of the lady
from QVC
fills up
all the
soundless
space
in the room…
 
     Tom Allen…04-27-2018…