The Old Blue Chair
The big, old chair
smelled of dust and food and sweat.
Full of peanut shells, dog hair and
spider webs, I set it out on the curb with a
FREE sign on it.
Tim, who took his own life last year,
bought it during one of his
visits to my little town.
He needed a chair he could
sleep in. He was no longer able to sleep
laying down.
Tim's VISITING chair
came from the local
store that has a perpetual SALE sign
painted on their window
in giant, orange, gaudy script.
Overpriced, low-end
furniture, but free delivery.
I wrestled the chair from the living
room and drug it to the curb
in the rain.
It was gone in three days when
the person made sure
no one was watching
and took it away,
soaking wet,
to its new home.
Tim and the chair
had things in common.
Both were too large
and
both grew
too uncomfortable
after a time.
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