Prof To Prof

Just out, individually out, of a great downpour

Before our work starts, and we, individually, wet,

We face each other in the hall, you shaking the rain

Off your books, me having just rubbed a bit of it

From my short hair, on the way to the loo,

We realize the space we share for this passing step

And stop to wonder why it is we never meet and talk.

You are psychologist -- mycologist!; me, a player with words.

Busy, we make no appointment, tip off to our various ways

Having been socially friends now for two minutes more.

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