Alone at a Conference Is Irony

Enter boldly the big room
Round tables of eight
One, just a single, no group
Nonchalantly searching
For a spot to discretely
Unnoticeably slide
Into a chair that appears
Unsaved by someone’s
Colleague, maybe their
Friend, who is running
Late and there will be
No hand that flattens
Onto the seat of this
Uncomfortable chair
While the voice indicates
This is taken, eye
Contact avoided by
Me, but she will mean
business and will pierce
My sideways gaze in
Protection of the spot
She has reserved for
Someone whose eyes
She knows by heart

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