Invitations Poem by anais vionet

The desk was half submerged in a lake of papers.
She felt so adult, being invited for coffee. But get outta here. With your remarkable eyes and.. WEDDING RING
The question hung invisibly in the air.
What does that mean, coffee? Have you ever felt like you were missing some obvious sign-signal? Why does he want to have coffee with ME? " Lisa asked herself.
He isn't the first guy to hit on her but he's a professor.
WAS he hitting on her?
Her sex-dar said he was hitting on her.
"Sorry, I, I can't." she said as her mind searched for context.
She thinks: What if I make him mad - and he decides he doesn't like me anymore?
Wait, does he like me NOW - or am I just another of a million students he's taught?
Am I making a thing out of nothing? Am I being fractious?
Maybe coffee means coffee?
She has a hundred thoughts in a millisecond.
"Why not? " he asks, not looking up and marking some student's paper with a red pin.
"I'm busy with humdrum deadlines, " she said, wondering if that even made sense.
He looks up and chuckles, "No problem." He says with a smile, then he returns to grading.
After a second she turns and goes.
"I need to find Anais, " she thinks, reaching for her phone.