Enter Ms. D____, A first year teacher out to save the world. She’s sexy in spite of herself, The prototype for sophisticated Montreal succubae. Twenty-four/seven, my omnipresent erection Rehearsed to spend upon freckled complexion, Upon reddest imagined-matched carpet and drape, Upon soft mound and tooth white and straight, And unto the mouths of perfection! I’ve taken up the challenge And grind you with vitriol in philosophical debate. I challenge you And you love it. A pupil so impassioned – You’ve got what you came for And so much more. We trade books and records, And love notes, in a sense. My essays being thinly veiled allegory of The things I intend to do to you Your response in red, as if spun from your veins, Coaxing my power to bloom But, A+ is not enough. Daily crime is the solution. I must spend time after school Processing what I’ve done wrong In pursuit of Your divine ass. I sit lashed to a crucifix, Ancient spikes to keep me there And to keep you safe. I drool for your calves and snort, beast-like, Your shampoo and pheromones. You do not answer me. I grip the edge of my desk like a door I’ll violently unhinge. Knuckles white. You can hear me grinding enamel to powder, Then to paste. I gag and foam, Eliciting from you Neither glance nor flinch. My words are lost in animalia, Desire raised to The final power. And then I am aware that you don’t Like me anymore. And I’m suddenly not sure That you ever did. * * * Eleventh grade was five years ago and I still have Your copy of Beyond Good and Evil, Which I still haven’t read, And your photo of the grave Of an over-rated rock star That was left in it As a bookmark. I was in town last week and We crossed paths as I walked Into the beer store. I don’t think I could have survived Had you stopped to say, “hello.”