Leaning over your desk, staring at calculus
I learned to solve at sixteen.
I’ll direct you to the nearest solution-
You have one hour left to reach, but
Have gotten too lost to see-
If you stop to ask me.
But you won’t, so
I won’t wait.
You don’t, and
I say nothing.
Kissing slightly,
Along your t-shirt’s edge, I leave
My mouth shut
And your neck wet.
Sheets of computer paper and
Snapped mechanical pencil tips
Sprinkled with eraser bits,
Cover the floor around your feet.
You punch your calculator keys while beneath your desk
I'm on my knees.