Office Observations

The fan is constantly humming,
drowning out the voices from the other cubicles,
pushing strands of my hair against my cheek
and lifting pinned papers away from the bulletin board.

I have not read the papers.
They belong to someone else, and I'm not interested.
But they float upwards,
held to the wall with a single pin,
dancing the Can-Can.

Post-its frame the computer screen
with yellow, neon green, and purple squares
each written in a different, messy script.
Acronyms, numbers, reminders, and a name,
they shake like leaves in the fan's wind.

They lean toward the light of the computer screen,
the cubicle's sun.
I suppose that makes this cup of coffee the ocean.