She takes me back to school
like I was back then,
when I had to hold my books
up against me to hide
how I felt about
my pretty science teacher,
only now not sitting
with book bag in
the back of her class,
but with a camera and pad,
jotting down all I
was supposed to collect,
stirred up to a froth
just
listening to her even when
she's not talking to
me at all,
not quite yet as
intense
as I felt all those
years ago,
but close, getting
closer,
a stiff reaction to a
lesson
only she knew how to teach,
though like back
then,
it is not the lesson
I am listening to by
to
the sound of her
voice,
the movement of her lips,
hips and all the
rest,
no school boy should
be
playing attention to.
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