By Shadygirl  fading_shade@hotmail.com
Date: 11 September 1999

My Professor

Anticipation
My stomach swarms
bee stings and butterflies
beneath a 
Thumping 
Pumping
Racing heart.
My Professor.
I learn to love lingering lust,
the safety of fantasy,
losing my need for breath 
when you reach for me
with a whispered rhyme
and closed eyes,
stenciled lips to an envied 
microphone.
Me, small, (finally)
my hazy
   lazy
   brazen
   gaze 
        on you as
Manhattan races itself
at our curbside.
My professor.
Please don't stop.
I want to learn so much more.