Infinite Regression

Imagine there's a chair
which, in all fairness,
is a humble enough affair,
the very soul of chairness.

Imagine someone sits
on its raffia foundation
and occupies his wits
in some careful contemplation.

Suppose he picks a spot
(left leg, front, just under
the higher crossbar -- what
a subject for our wonder!)

Now, here's a teasing topic
for idle conversation:
what if a microscopic,
unknown civilization

inhabits that position?
That pinprick could contain
another Tito, Tesla, Titian:
it overwhelms the brain!

But if you find that grieving,
here's something much, much worse:
what if we're not even
the Big Deal Universe?

In a stellar cellar somewhere,
there's a mousetrap, hammock, keg,
and a chair within that slum, where
we're a dot on one left leg