Conversation with My Favorite Chair

[Me] –I’ve been looking for you.

[M.F. Chair] –Really? Long time, no seat.

[Me] –Ha, ha. Really!

[M.F. Chair] –You haven’t come around a lot lately. What gives?

[Me] –Just getting on. My back, my bottom. Sore.

[M.F. Chair] –Well, ease them into me, stranger.

[Me] –You look a bit worn lately. Nothing personal.

[M.F. Chair] –Lots of parties in the last year or so. People jumping up and down

on me, especially the kids. Then there’s the drinks and hors d’oeuvres they dropped

on me. Oh, and a fight broke out, can you believe it right in this house? Some big

guy landed on me hard. That kind of did a job on me.

[Me] –I hear you.

[M.F. Chair] –You look tired. What’s the matter?

[Me] –I used to run around all the time. Thought everything was so important.

Now that I’ve slowed down I can’t imagine what the fuss was all about.

[M.F. Chair] Well, I’m not going anywhere, not till they throw me out. Did you hear?

Even the charities won’t have me anymore. I’m no longer desirable.

[Me] –Not true. I think you’re just fine. And super comfy.

[M.F. Chair] –You’re just saying that.

[Me] –No. Honest…mind if I close my eyes and sleep a bit?

[M.F. Chair] –Not at all. You’re not the first, you know. And hopefully you won’t be

The last. So, go ‘head, handsome.[Me] –Ahh, you’re swell.

Gene Goldfarb is a writer and poet living on Long Island in New York. Besides writing, his passions are traveling, movies, and reading. His poetry has appeared in Black Fox, SLANT, COG, Green Briar, Quiddity and elsewhere.

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