Although the weather’s cool, even favorable,
With the fleeting sun, has also gone
She musters it up for the class, pushing the edges out,
displaying some white from her teeth,
It’s pasted on; she counts to three.
Will they believe this is happiness?
They’re too clever.
They know this look themselves.
She’s not fooling any of them
except perhaps the girl
who sits in the back
squinting behind thick glasses
to see the board.