Sometimes, the chairs are all
in the same place.
Not always.
When they are,
I become disturbed,
feeling all of the people gone.
The hotel windows become
the universe, and I feel
lonely, frightened of the day.
Today, none of the chairs
were in place, and the chaos
stabbed at my body.
The puzzlement hung on my
shirt sleeves.
stillfugue 
#1 by Carl D'Agostino on August 15, 2013 - 8:57 pm
We need to have the night janitor get those chairs in order. How can the man be so insensitive ?
#2 by Carl on August 15, 2013 - 9:00 pm
If he knew about me, he’d have me committed.