They

Have a type

They clamor

For whoever

Sits in my chair

And for a second

Here and there

I think

Maybe I am singular

Yet

One thousand more

Adore

One thousand more

Who sit

Behind desks

In offices

Just like mine

And it’s a bit

Heart-hurty nonsensical

To endure

That two-hour

Crucial matter

Which is most likely

More about

Nabbing my attention

Than knowing my heart

Or my God