Today, I walked up to her desk.
It was messy, unlike her
brisk appearance
that wears the shades of the rainbow
with a casual finality.

There were books,
predictably pertaining to the laws
unruly, unlike her
hair that falls neatly
to her sides.

A hygiene product sat whispering
to the laptop cooler
all black, unlike her
words that smother you with their certainty
and playfully warn you to stay out of trouble.

I will talk to her before I go.

— -
Note: This poem was published on Algebra of Owls on July 22, 2016.