there are chairs everywhere.
there are chairs everywhere and art hangs on the walls.
there are chairs everywhere, and there are old vintage light bulbs that glow for another night, and she is strumming guitar in the living room, and the flowers are drying, and it is chilly with the death of september. there are new bar stools on old beige carpet, there is lavender in the air, and there is leftover pizza.
there is a semicolon inked on a wrist. a friend points it out. ”i like that,” she tells. ”i see you,” she says. there is laughter like drunkenness without the carnality, there is truth in the comedy, and a jar of milk is out for those who would like cereal.
there is the sun through the rotting leaves, there is the light through their holes, there is a constellation that beams through the clouds, and there is his smile when his son tugs on his hand. there is the knowing of pain, there is the advil, and there is the match, struck to let it burn away. there are the custody papers, it’s sitting in his desk, it’s sealed, it’s promised, it’s real, just like her seventh month clean from cutting, she’s been learning how to carve instead.
there is the holy sacredness of parishioners blissfully ignorant of the time, sharing their hopes and dreams and the day that they saw the lord was good— the spaghetti was only 25 cents a piece. praise the holy god, the rent will be paid. there is the steady risk of being perceived, there is the danger of being known, there is the unrivaled thrill when the sentence is uttered, ”you are not alone”.
there is the mental instability, and there is the healing. there is the grunting at the mirror to persevere, and there is, for the first time, the acceptance to step away. there are the lonely nights, and there are the drives in the car when he looks out the window and the rush comes flooding in to try to be alive. there is time, there is time, there is time to undo all the wrong, there is time to make right, there is time to know that the responsibility does not fall on any one’s sole pair of shoulders.
there is her smile, her hair glinting in the light, walking downtown and feeling nervous, unsure of what is coming next. there are the long drives after the angry people storm away, silent and tired, and so young, having copays and having little siblings to take from distant parent to distant parent. there are their scared faces breaking into smiles, there is the way his eyes shut as he strums the untuned guitar, there is her small question. ”so, cause my dad didn’t marry my mom, am i a sin?” there is the emphatic “no!”.
truth be true, it’s not really sure what that one is, the one with the cinematic heartbreak constantly observing the world, an enigma to all, even himself. there is so much fear of screwing up, of making a fatal mistake, of losing communication forever. there are pauses in between the nerves, discussing art by mentally ill lovers of life, there are pretentious little walls with their egos properly decorated to size, and oh, fool. fool fool fool. there is so much love. there is the common ground of inhaling illegal substances in youth, against either one’s will, when both were small and curious and wanting a better life. there is the hope that it is coming. there is the hope of possibility. there is, like his soft goodbye, the promise of possibility, that when he pulls out of the driveway he’ll park at the overpass, look down, and move forward. it’s painful, it’s painful, he wishes for a good night, a good day, and the wish is made that he will stay.
there is so much love. dear mary, joseph, peter and paul, there are not two steps in this stupidly small town where it isn’t felt. cvs sells it discounted, the spanish church a block from it offers it for free on saturdays, and don’t blink too much but it dare may be in his hand.
there is pizza, that is most important. and there are chairs everywhere.
there are chairs everywhere. for, with the weight of this fullness, there requests a place to sit down and belong.
there are chairs everywhere, asking one to stay.
“pfft, well if you have to sit on the carpet, move over. you silly, silly child!”