Talking to a Chair

A Poem

the chair I sit across from

is made of black leather and has two lines of stitching

that look like a set of closed eyes on a frowning face


but it's the perfect partner for practicing my cold call

which I do in an empty office they can't seem to fill


the phrase cold call is generally avoided at work

but I do use it freely in my mind


the chair is great

it always asks me how my day is going

and it never yells, how'd you get my number!


the chair doesn't make me feel

like the warm plastic of my desk phone 

when I press it against my face 

a deep distant tone counting down somewhere far off


because I know the chair

and it knows me

it gets where my heads at


we speak openly 

together in my conquered corner office

searching for the beauty in persuasion

still struggling to convince ourselves it's there

Now Reading
Talking to a Chair