Post It Notes

Welcome to your first day
You’ll be seated here at Adina’s desk
Until she is back from maternity leave
She is having a little boy!

You thank Cathy for the details and take your seat
The chair is too low and too leaned back
The final battleground of creeping discomfort
You can feel her reluctance change the settings
More disbelief than obstinance

You have taken this land over from a family
Gentrified the neighborhood
There is no time for guilt
There are her old (your new) desk drawers to sift through

2 counts of mystery chargers, relics
1 count of a company vest, unworn
1 count of post it notes, useful

You grab one of the post it notes
Taking notes is something productive
Marks ambition
Charmingly, the stack lifts up in accordion style

You imagine her transforming the original stack
Marking pauses in repetitive, dull monologues
One yellow square at a time
Peel off, flip, reattach, repeat

Then the pile thins
Three thousandths of an inch at the time
Reminders for appointments
In rooms of cold, harsh light

A note of remembered advice, given unprompted
Mozart is good for development
No nylon in the crib of course
Cheese is now a threat

The boy is 9, he is on the bus, nauseous
Every conversation is marked with danger
Shielding his lunch box from the girl next to him, he opens it
A feigned look of exasperation, importance

Inside is a note, embarrassing
Have a great first day, I love you :)
Gross, must be discarded
But peeling it off reveals the next one

He flips it around to read it
I know you’re throwing this away!
Another square, again flipped
You can’t get rid of me :)

A brief smile, quickly concealed
He takes a deep breath
He taps the girl’s green shoulder
Asks her about summer camp

He is 16, and she is expecting a promposal
There are things he wants to say to her
It is funny that she still prefers green

There are other things he wants to say
That live under this first group
Thoughts of a different orientation
An idea comes to him

You should really get back to work

By this time, she has returned from leave
Assigned a different desk
Where the rent is cheaper
And you have just spent the last of her accordion

You will make a new one
An introduction, a recognition
There must be a standard stack somewhere
You get up to explore

Finding the drawer: Office Supplies, descriptive
Your hand grabs the first yellow square
In slow motion, the squares beneath it begin to separate
In an unexpected way
Accordion style

You look out the window
And go for a walk