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”
Alan May Poet 