Yard Sale Chair

Apologies to WCW & TSE

Everything depends
upon a bright blue
folding chair
bought at
a yard sale
for five bucks.

Sitting in it on
an autumnal morning
soaking up the
waning sun’s warmth.

Late life tableau:

old man, blue chair,
nowhere to go,
nothing to see,
nothing left to be.

Memories fall
like leaves
on chilly earth.

Sitting alone
in the sun
he remembers songs
he once sang,

vaguely recalls
dead or dying dreams.

One final planted
place on earth.

The world does,
it finally seems,
end with a whimper
not a bang.