Therapy

There is a woman spread
eagle on my office couch.
Her calf length skirt,
hiked around her thighs.

I can see a portion
of her pitch black panties.

She looks disinterested.
Not just in me,
but in life.
She fights off boredom,

fidgeting with her hair clip.
Thoughts of something,
someone, run through
her head.
One can't tell
what these thoughts are.

Silently lost in contemplation.
Oblivious,
to the staring eyes.

One foot rests
on the back of the couch.
She doesn't seem to hear,
my voice.

Her eyes close,
her foot falls.
She sleeps.