Who would
have thought of them
as furniture assassins?

Mine here
at this desk has witnessed
so many findings.

Ergonomics
if you have the disposable
income:

we should be
kneeling, but our poor
are anyway.

Buttock-popliteal length
is no longer an apt measurement for
life expectancy.

In ten centuries
of change, comfy things for sitting
and lounging on

have facilitated an
advancement in the democracy
of indolence.

That old game of
explaining to an alien why
we invented the chair –

and them standing there,
a floating essence
in air.

If Commodity Culture
is a title for the next found prose poem,
will it be entirely ironic?