Student

[71degrees]

She wants to study leisurely;
her body won’t let her

all other books are piled neatly
as log moss under her desk;
she’s pulling her hair—
strands wrapping around her index finger
over and over again like follicle ideas—

no laces in white soled shoes,
no socks on soft feet, her jeans
look like two legs squeezed
into hollow sycamore trees

the novel she is reading touches her hand
with color and intent as though flowers
are growing in a landscaped park
while a light rain turns her desktop
into a mirror

she is trying to learn something not named,
something random, something starting without
a sound and ending with the conversation
of others