the joy of the orange chair

i feast

my eyes on the orange

chair,

mid-century modern,

set out

in the rain,

on the curb

for pick up on Monday

morning.

it's as bright as

any

piece of fruit i've seen

on a Florida tree.

i wonder

about the joy felt

when

it was boldly carried

up the stairs

sixty years ago,

or so,

into the brownstone,

and positioned against

the corner

of Berber carpet,

beige and worn,

loosely rolled and set

out as well

to wait

for Monday morning.