Built of sleek black wood
and a velvet seat cover—

the best of the new world
and the old. I carry it, now and then,

for the grandest of reasons: I want to.
And much to my surprise people

have come to accept this, little fuss
being made as I walk the streets.

A woman said “That’s a lovely chair”
and asked if she could buy it—

no, no, no I’d never sell. I still hear
those who say “I can’t do this” I can’t

do that” and here I am carrying a chair
I cradle like a gorgeous baby or

a lovely violin. If I can do it so can
they. That chair forlorn by the doorway—

pick it up and give it a try. We’ll wait
for you in the park, by the gilded fountain.