younger version of my highschool english teacher
dear mrs. G.
how i learned, how i grew, how i developed
all within the confines of your classroom
how i understood life to come,
how i realized the life that was behind
how i wished to fall in love with you
had you not been born too soon.
dear english teacher,
how brave, how beautiful,
the essence of feminism
the essence of a woman.
i know you well
i know you grew
i know you loved
i know you smoked pot
and joined the cause,
joined the movement
and i know certain things cast close to your heart
and you understood
devoured the written word as if it was junk
as if it were a cap
your sister morphine
and, to this day, in you post-periods
you still embody how i feel
what i want to touch
who i want to be (with)-
where you go, i will go,
your accent (washington)
like michael douglas.
and if you had been born, the same year i had
perhaps this world would be a bit warmer
and perhaps my life would be worth more time.