Study Hall 6.1.04

I am sitting behind him in this dank lecture hall.

"Space, Time and Motion"
written on paper with the hurried
illegible chicken scratch of an
Apathetic Icon

He is on autopilot--head down and then
SHOOTS back up to catch the next line
on the blackboard.

Submerged...pressure...emerged.

There are ink stains covering
his olive fingers and arms
with a pattern all its own.
Endless time spent pouring
over books, scribbling like DAS FUHRER.
Pencil eraser lodged in jagged bitten nails.

He wears his intensity like a plastic
sheriff's badge tacked lopsided to
his GI JOE T-shirt and then he
has turned around.

A nick on his face glares @ me and
says: "Das Ist Mein Kampf"
But the smile on his face is deceving...
A shiver of desire runs down
my spine
and he feels
the relief of victory pulse
through his chest
down his arms,
to his fingers
where written on page I peer over his shoulder to see:
"This is so high school."

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