Kathisophobia

What exactly do they feel
who fear the commonest thing?
In Fear Factor I learn that man
could have a phobia of sitting down,
and I can’t help but snicker
at the thought of someone panicked
at the sight of a chair. Perhaps
he is someone otherwise normal,
a bank executive or lawyer,
who knots his tie the same way
as the next person, relishes chicken
like everyone else. But in malls
he stays clear of the furniture section,
which makes his heart almost jump
with its monstrous sofas and divans.
At weddings he is the one odd guest
who claps for the bride and groom
out by the church door, unable to stand
the wooden pews gathered inside
like a pack of wolves. And when
you visit his house, isn’t it weird
how he will not offer you to have a seat?
How the two of you will stand
in the middle of an empty space,
exchanging stories on your feet?
Oh, the possibilities are endless
when you imagine a life shaped
around one fear! The blind dates
he stands up because he cannot sit,
the movies he watches erect as a stick.
Even the simple act of relieving himself
oh for him cannot possibly be simple.

But then what is it like to finally meet her,
the one woman who loves through
the cramps, who thumbs her nose
at the varicose veins begun to spread
like webs on her legs? She might be
plain as a mop, but for him she is
unimaginably beautiful, standing
before him like a dutiful salesgirl,
offering her love like a box of shoes.
I feel almost envious when I picture them:
two poles, rooted on the ground forever.
When other couples who have slumped through
a hundred candle-lit dinners have divorced
and then remarried, the two of them
go on and on unbending through bad weather.
It doesn’t matter that ivy grows and covers them
from the feet up. Alone in his fear,
they remain the last couple standing