Arguments

If I were a chair

, a glorious chair I’d be

For I, as far as chairs are concerned,

(Assumed) wrapped in leather is me-

would hear of sorrow and pain,

of joy and unrelenting gain

without drops of responsibility.

Stitched in patterns accepted (maybe),

Or glued, oh how I could become unglued!,

Just so I could be one of those chairs

With stains of “woe is me.”

And my legs,

All of my legs, 4 or 2 or 3

Would be great for stress

To bare the weight of more or less

Indiscriminately,

Unless, of course, there’s too much horse

And I’ll buckle, pop or creak.

And seek, I would, the company

Of other sightful chairs,

For we together, would share,

The risk risk risk

Of tisk tisk tisk those

Kids that jump from you to me.

But likely,

I’d be torn with wrinkled sags

Or worn with faded tags that

Itch. I’d maybe stench

Of stagnance,

Oh, but maybe,

If I were a chair, it’d be different

And I wouldn’t take up your air.

How the thought could rest and sit,

If I could be a chair

And just quit.