i remember vaguely
an 8 am physics class at
my beloved and expensive alma mater,
In the middle of Nebraska cornfields.
Where I stared dully
at a brilliant professor
who was passionate about his work
ignoring the glassy look about our eyes.
Did I even pretend to take notes?
Could my hands repeat his vibrant words
while I dreamt, instead, of love
yet unfounded and unknown?
for He told me we needed Space and Time
a State of the Art
at no small cost to the college.
filled the science laboratory closet
whirring and clicking
hypnotically through the hour.
entire lifetimes have slipped away
from my dozing,
sophomoric, in physics class,
along with his name and a million others.
on a foreign shore, a mere 500 miles away
i tap away on my
but i remember one phrase
one handwritten note,
I still fall,
as he said was the formula
at 9 meters