AFTER your wedding I watch
the staff pick up stackable chairs
that had stood calm and apart
and how something changes.
The chairs, once isolated, mold
into each other like lovers, legs
fit firmly into legs, lap
tucks perfectly into lap into lap into lap
Some dirty, some scuffed, some pure
they become a plastic orgy
a vertical daisy chain
one atop the other
a blazing heap

I really need to get a girlfriend