by Alexander Maksik
These arrangements of empty chairs are what’s left of celebration, argument, meditation, sleep and revelation. They huddle together like still animals in the cold. From a chair beneath a plane tree, the round tracks of a cane disappear into the gravel.
The single chairs are absent of their poets, readers and afternoon philosophers.
Those side by side and face to face are absent of their lovers, their chess players, the soon to be married and the just abandoned.
The great groups of circles and strange half-moons have lost their lecturers, their students.