Jennifer Juneau

Office Hours

Commenced from a signature of ink scribbled
in your appointment book, I materialized at your door.
Four walls, a floor and a ceiling confined us

in the core of an overcast afternoon.
Oblivious of the lamplight that threw our black doubles,
you expounded the requirements of study, all the rules.

Half listening, I didn't notice your blue-blue eyes,
I watched our shadows converse on the wall.
Shadows. Aren't we all?

And I'm just another half-hour slot in your day.
A voice full of questions and two ears for an answer.
You're neither iimpressive nor dogmatic,

but a medium who talked & listened until another set of knuckles
rapped at your door. When my time expired,
I thanked you sweetly and left, a mess of students

were congregating in the hall.
I'll always be your two o'clock the earliest.
I'll never be anything more than four.