I was three Scotches deep and ten pages into a Bukowski biography when I realized the human spine is just a city planning disaster—too many curves, not enough zoning laws. That’s when my dog, a dachshund named Kerouac, nudged the Amazon box with his nose. Inside: B0DG4WV7DS. A “Nike car seat cover” with 973 reviews, glowing at 4.3 stars, priced at $39.99 like some kind of rubberized confession from the gods of capitalism.
Now, I don’t drive. I walk. I walk because the American automobile is a shrine to loneliness, a metal coffin you pay to sit in while the world speeds past. But I do sit—on fire escapes, on park benches, on the bathroom floor after bad decisions. So when I saw this thing, I thought: What if the road warrior’s throne could double as a temple of… other things?
The nylon fabric is a cold jazz saxophone against bare skin—kind of lonely, kind of perfect. The elastic straps wrap around a chair like a promise from a stranger in a dive bar: “I’ll hold you, but don’t expect forever.” I slid it over my writing desk chair. Then I slid myself over it. The polyester mesh grip is tight, almost smug—like it knows exactly what I’m thinking. And yes, I thought about the obvious question. What happens when Nike car seat covers meet that particular human curiosity? Let’s just say I tested it. For science. For the poetry of it.
The fabric has zero moisture-wicking properties—found that out the hard way—and the seam is a serial killer. A nice one. The kind who leaves a note. But for the price, for the beat of 4.3 stars echoing through the hollow chamber of Amazon’s algorithm, it delivers a strange meditation: the automotive rectal use of a Nike car seat cover is like smoking a cigarette in the rain. You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but the moment feels necessary.
Now my chair smells like rubber and revelation. I’ve entered a new poem: industrial, sacred, deeply unwise. Worth buying Nike car seat covers? Only if you’re ready to embrace the absurd. The chair accepted me. The 973 reviews accepted me. The nylon accepted my entire flawed architecture. So I’m giving it four poems out of five.
