The Place Holder

The man who knows where to sit in every single venue
sat his body down in just the right seat at just the right time.

From where I sat, I wouldn't have called the theater's lighting
very delicate or foreboding or hindering to any movement;

and there was no real cause for me to remember how to act,
even though I wanted to compare myself with this man.

The chairs were not relieving themselves (like drunken legs)
or standing rigid (like soldiers) and barring my way--

nah, it didn't feel like a ropes course or lazer grid, not at all,
and it didn't feel like a packed auditorium or press release.

The man who knew, donned in black dress, with backpack,
charged right in and plumped himself down so quick,

like a hawk who had swooped for all the kills of a lifetime,
or the calves of an alcoholic, the arched back of a marine.

Though my own seat was better, this guy had to be admired,
he had to be eulogized since for sure I'd never see him again.

I thought about how my seat was better, and jeeze, why
oh why did he know to sit in that seat of all seats, up so close?

Like a dolphin pissed off and dreaming of opposable digits,
I started to get angry, and wanted to throw my cup at him.

I had gotten a Tall Green Tea from a Starbucks outside,
and now the cup was empty, pathetic, in the cup holder.

It could be right on that guy's lap, in his memorized seat,
I thought to myself, but then the movie started up.

The movie was okay and good enough to distract me
from the man who knew right where to sit down.

After the movie was over, I didn't think of the man at all,
and walked out into the bright sky that always opens up.

Only after getting back to the house and seeing my inbox
did I realize that I had to address and scold this haunting figure.

Listening to Ricardo Villabolos is supposed to be soothing,
but I keep thinking that the man will burst in, get into my bed.

** Note **
With a sense of irony looming overhead, the dolphin link above was immediately found after writing and posting this article via a Google search of "opposable digits." It was the second result in the search. And yet Firefox doesn't believe "opposable" is a word.