Poets Corner: The Chair


The Chair

Walking alone on the foggy beach

I find a plastic chair

on its side at the high tide line,

left behind or washed in

last night. I tip it up

and sit a minute counting waves.

Tiny figures of beachcombers

to the north and south –

no one even approaching.

I could just leave

my wallet and keys in the chair

and disappear into the mist,

from this version of my life.

Farfetched? Last night

I met a broke young captain

who would take me anywhere

I’d pay to go, so he wouldn’t

have to store his boat

and get a real job.

Of course, I got up and went back

to the rented house, the wife,

the kids, all waking with fresh demands.

Or that’s what you think

I did, instead of submitting

this poem with a borrowed name

(thanks Warren) from far away

and then moving on.

Warren Woessner

Warren Woessner is the Senior Editor of Abraxas magazine and a part-time resident of Edgartown. His most recent poetry collection is Clear All the Rest of the Way (Backwaters Press).