sit down at
desk seventeen
row k. people behind,
no one in front. jacky next to me.
good luck we mouth to one another,
neither of us remember the date.

the room is warmer than outside,
reason enough to take off my jacket,
pull my sleeeves over my palms.

three hours of history&theory,
five minutes of it
dedicated to you.

((why does the back of your head look so divine?))

my neck seems to drag
down onto the desk,
fold my head into
leatherclad hands.
write, scribble, sigh.

boots splay at odd angles,
pink&black socks are probably
on show. posture is irrelevant.

i look up now & then
to see if you'll be here longer than me,
to see if we'll meet on our way out
tighten my mouth in frustration.
i'll be here until the end

during question four
you leave. i look up
once again, realise you are gone
& know that today there is no time
for you & i to linger in
conversation.