Two Chairs

If I look sad, that was my childhood.
If I look happy, it's an accident. 

Sit on that kitchen chair.
Don't fiddle with the vinyl. 
It keeps the stuffing in.
The masking tape is final.

Pull up a cheer while I table my thoughts.
Stifle that yawn while I wrangle my doubts.

The thing about this place is its wine-soaked darkness.
Repellent service. Empty rooms. The sticky carpets.

Let's drink to the morning and through the afternoon.

Let's remember years past 

And the shadows we cast.