I’m 30 years old and by this time I have sat through some awful lectures. This poem is from one of those lectures.
The exit sign, it calls to me
The pain in my wrist, ankle, shoulder and back
The student in me says, “Pay attention!”
The 4th year in me says, “Why is he reading to us!?!”
I’m bored and focusing on my pain
This history is boring
The green exit sign, it beckons me toward it
I look around the room
There are lots of good looking men in this room
Are they married?
Are they single?
My neck stings with pain
The way I’m sitting reminds me
That one hip is higher than the other
As he gives us a history lesson
One I’ve already heard
I search the room again
I know him, and him, and him, and him
I know they are single
I know they are great men
There is that guy that always asks questions
At least this time he got to his question quickly
There’s that guy I know
And he looks as bored as I feel
I smile and try not to laugh at that knowledge
I’m bored but other people look so engaged
How do they do that?
I get out my phone and text a good friend
Its nights like these that i wish I brought my computer
Or that I wasn’t ADHD
Have you ever noticed
Especially Christian men
Have the same hand gestures?