by Jacob Nantz
Seat Yourself is too much autonomy
for a straggler, or anyone like me
who crumbles under choice’s pressure.
Tell me where to go, what to do
when I get there. Just bring me
best practice, nothing that will blur
boundaries, abandon me with my brain.
I said I wasn’t eating—only beer—but look
at me now: rubbing salsa into my jeans,
trying to clean up another of my messes
and agreeing to a double. My whole life
has been chasing departures. I need to be ushered
to gates, need this young lady sliding me the check
without my asking, need her boss shouting okay folks
we’re closing as if I’m not the only one left.
Jacob Nantz is a poet and essayist. He holds an MA in Poetry from Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, and a full list of his publications can be found at https://www.jacobnantz.com/poems. Born and raised in the Chicago area, he currently lives and writes in Northern Virginia.