Can This Be Where You Sat When You Were Here?
The cushion’s flecked with bits of crumby dust, stained I don’t know with what green stuff, and one little red patch of sauce dried to a crust. It hangs off a bit to the chair’s left side, as though trying to slouch off it, but un- able to follow through. The creases spread lazily, asymmetrically divide the cushion into lumpy tracts of seat. Can this be where last night you sat, your head bowed by some troubled thought? Where without guile you looked up, let our eyes a moment meet, then shook your hair out of your face, and shook the cosmos into order with a smile, correcting chaos with a winsome look? "Can This Be Where You Sat When You Were Here?" by Amos J. Hunt is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License