#5085 here is a mostly unoriginal poem about uchicago chairs for a uchicago student by a uchicago student who is alive and posts to uchicago secrets and wants to cheer up sad people but is not very good at it because the author is just as sad. i do not know you but i can read the coffee lips left upon your mug. i can smell the fear that mixed with berry from the shampoo you used this morning. i can sit in soft dreams that you left behind on those drowsy chairs in harper. perhaps the spongy cushion changed to grass and aristotle on the quad or bicycles scraping thru the puddles or brushing clumps of snow from cuffs of pants and blowing hands to warm them. or maybe the chair became your future throne from which you too could ravage student papers make them blubber under bedsheets and munch on cookies snatched from bartlett. or else the seat became the first seat you ever took in the first class you were taking, believing you were smarter and finding you that werent. there are a thousand seats across this campus each with a soul imprinted or a nightmare. here is a chair in the stacks the wooden tabletop indented with erratic marks of pencil from the time you couldnt understand and blamed it on the wood. or the strands upon the cushion when you chewed your fingers wrung your hair in fear of losing love or face or self dragging your friends down with you abrading their souls like a cat that sharpens claws on a door frame. and then the strange, menacing stains on the arm rest from when your bleeding thoughts began to crawl down to your wrists. i am not sure, but of this i am: when they left this chair refreshed or not and trudged or skipped to class part of them was left behind waiting for the next to blend another story like a grand stew for all to savor and to add to.
Posted on: Mon, 24 Nov 2014 01:24:36 +0000
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