In that chair
sits a fountain hairdoed infant
with her chin hanging low,
tunnel ready for the next cargo
of mashed peas and sweet potatoes.
Maybe if she’s lucky, banana.

In that chair
sits a D+ student
with his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed,
scribbling cos²? + 2sinX,
thinking up any half logical numbers to put on paper.
Maybe if he’s lucky, the answer.

In that chair
sits a thirty four year old bridesmaid
preparing for her speech on love,
what with her own divorce, she no longer believes in.
But it’s time to start making more drunken mistakes.
Maybe if she’s lucky, with the groom’s best man.

In that chair
cries a young man
grasping the narrow fingers of his father,
wires and tubes webbed around him.
in ten minutes the doctor will push the button and he’ll be gone.
Maybe if he’s lucky, painlessly.