Love Poem to Drew

I'd probably be thinking about you if I had the time.

I'd study you like theology — never mind that such a statement makes sense to far too few, but know that for you, it makes as much sense as any metaphor can.
I'd study you like only I can.

I'd articulate my favorite features of you, analyzing each quirk, each sentimentality, each delicate feature.

I'd compare you to others — making sure you are the right one for me, hoping another does not come near your brilliance.

Yes, if I had the time, I'd leisurely read your blog, hoping you say something directly to me, even if it is in code.

Or maybe I'd be better off admitting that I only think of you at this point because I have no time to think.

It's a constant flow of papers and tests, exams and essays.

My mind is imploding and I simply cannot think of another scholar or assess the findings of another brilliant man.

But I can day dream about you.

I can read each e-mail you send me, dreaming of the day that I might live only a few blocks away from you, and I can sneak over every day to listen to the people who associate with you, marveling in the way they speak, the way they represent you.

Yes, its nights like tonight when I've hardly started on a thesis which should have been written months ago — those nights —that I dream about grad school.

To sit on your lawn which always looks stunning emerald green. To peak at the stained glass windows on your campus, to breathe in the air of New York suburbs.

Yes, tonight, I am dreaming of you, Drew, because I don't want to do my homework.