a chair, part 2

I get the best view from the back of the room, with everyone faced forward to the doors away from me. Do not turn around or to your side in the chair, unless it is your knees and thighs I will get to see as you prop your legs upon the adjacent, empty desk chair, the angle of your knees forcing a pull of your jeans down, exposing the larger muscles of your body. Don't turn around, because it is your neck that is the ice to my ache. The way the hair, curled and wispy, dark blonde, at the base of your neck does not fit into the bun you make halfway through shift or that you bring with you from home, that is what I want in front of me. Even better, when it is all let down. You do not have a clue as to how many colors you have running through your hair--all of the browns, golds, and even reds, or how we ache back here, longing to be that chair as your dark blue, sweat-stained, leg prop.