Saturday, April 18, 2009

That time of year again

I love you like a stack of freshman writing papers,
thick and deep and so full of excitement.

I long for the moment you turn yourself in,
put yourself in my hands,
and give yourself over to me for a thorough reading.

You keep me up all night.
enthralled by your insight & wisdom
I can barely put you down.

I flip through your pages,
your heady aroma of bleached paper and ink toner
making me dizzy with desire.

without you i have no purpose,
no comma splice to conjunct,
no dangling modifier to modify.

I am awash in an empty house of loneliness and sorrow
until you come again next semester in all your
smug, wretched glory to tease my heart again.

1 comment:

Ms. Fu-Daddy said...

ahhahaahahahaha. hilarious. only teachers...feel you on that. wish i had written a dope poem about grading.