Professional

Flat desk, imitation wood, with square, disappointing drawers
Tape and staples, paper clips, pencil holder with pens galore
Scanning the bar codes on children's books and teachers' aids
Xerox in the corner, small refrigerator, microwave...

The boss is gone away; no less softly I let the music play
This computer and Sade, my only company for all day
Reclining as I type, legs folded into a figure four
Pretending not to cast wishes in the frame of the open door

What if she were to come... I'd probably not know what to say
Still, I hope for a visit; if for nothing else, just to say,
"Hey, what's goin' on? How are things at the store?...
'Looking forward to graduation?... Yeah me too, even more...

May I help you?..." Act as if I'm not nervous while I fumble
Remember to speak clearly as, at times, I tend to mumble
Maybe she wouldn't be in such a rush to come and go
And we could sit and talk, maybe for hours in a row

Or maybe I would make that biggest mistake of them all:
Have this great conversation, then part with no way to call
No... today I wouldn't blow the chance, I just couldn't
I'd take advantage; there's no better chance to do what I shouldn't

I don't mean any harm--- I mean, business is really slow
I'd still make time for customers, just with more hustle and flow
So I could get back to discussion, the smiling and the blushing
Boldly speaking my heart... but tempered, quietly hushing

As the song ends once again, I retreat away from the screen
...Twenty-four years old, and yet I still crush like a teen
At very least, I have managed to force the hands of time
Meanwhile keeping professional, despite writing this rhyme