“Secret Life” by Robert Detman

The yellow chair 
had a humble 
end overturned 
on the sidewalk 
in the rain 
having done time 
for twenty years 
of daily use
the only words 
I had for it 
were to complain 
about my aching 
knees and back 
I will not shed 
tears though if 
it sits too long 
on the sidewalk 
I may have to 
perform a mercy 
killing of kindling 
or the green bin 
I found it in 
Berkeley at
a yard sale 
from one of the 
labs I guess 
supporting 
future Nobel 
candidates and 
vaccine developers 
or an astronomer 
who looked into 
the pitch of the 
night sky and 
mused “Aren’t
we so lucky?”
while imagining 
sentient life 
looking back 
at us from 
magnanimous 
distance 

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