Au Contraire Mon Lonely Chair

Pull up a chair and have a stare at the slowly setting sun on a dusty, doomed horizon. It swivels but there's no angle you won't get a full dose of the desolateness before us. Adjust the lumbar support so that you won't miss a single eye-guzzle of gloom. Don't lean back too far as even gravity holds a grudge.

The chain-link fence wobbles. The power lines hum haste. Your seat squeaks inconsolably as you rise to lumber off.

This throne only knows ancient turbulence and auld turmoil.