Empty Chair, Empty Desk

Bob had a way of singing
with his eyes. His silly grin.
His shiny shoes. Bob 
gave me scuba fins 
for my trip to Waterloo.
He kept his horse behind 
the water cooler. Bob’s drone 
was the best drone. Mike,
Bob’s nemesis, would drone
on and on about 
the paper weights. The paper 
clip. The paper cuts 
both ways. I would
like to say Bob died
in some disaster. Or fighting 
with a rodent. Defective snow 
shoes. Defective snow 
globe. Bob’s wife looks 
as though she’s lost her keys. 
I’ve lost my patience with Mike
a thousand times. The other day, 
I found Bob’s horse 
behind the copy machine. 
I said, “There. There,” and took
him home for supper.  

after Ray Hansell’s poem “Empty Desk, Empty Chair”