Pickup Poem Day 15

Ergonomic Desk Chair

I bought a tall, red chair to train

my spine. Spilled his bolts

and stitches from the flat pack,

Allen-keyed him to life, No lightning

or romantic hubris. A strong smell

of Naugahyde. At once he held me 

like a too-serious prom beau 

striving to pull his date 

back from her future.

As Wednesday’s 4:30 drifts

past the safe cove of agile, he corrects

my back, and I peg this cease

of pain, these floating feet and vertebral

slalom: the same narcotic adjustment

competent sex offers. Is this the danger

prowling within work? That our soldier

bodies hear the drill sergeant’s first,

merciless call to attention, and we snap

to, in the ecstasy of knowing--finally--

the only right way.