Overheard in Homeroom

Eyebrows are way down my list

of things about which to be concerned--

as a matter of fact, they

don't make the list at all,

but in room 305 at 7:40 a.m.

they constitute a crisis

as the girl looks at her reflection

in a compact and

brushes and tweezes,

while I, on the other side of 

the large desk, ponder

the difference between an

85 and an 88.

"Eyebrows are sisters, not twins," 

another girl offers, as I mumble

metaphor quietly.

So it goes, different orbits

but still the same

rumination and brooding, 

insistence on what is important,

things that concern us so 

at one point in life making way

for others unpredicted,

as I smile and thin lines

frame my eyes, my pen

loops two green eights,

and I raise one uncorrected

brow (one brother?), if not

in solidarity, then at least

in insight.