today
in Physics
with the teacher who
says friction is everywhere, says
graphs are
beautiful,
and the dim lights
and their heads on their desks
dreaming of satellites,
not love,
never love,
he steals
Newton's equations,
blue ink
from another universe,
to keep.

it's been three months
since the kiss,
last summer
camp,
slimy, stumbling,
dark,
confused tongues,
crickets,
i think i am standing still,
inertia.

it scares me, sometimes,
i forget if your hair
feels like feathers
or not,
i forget if it's earl grey
or english breakfast
you drank
at night.
but
objects in motion
remain in
motion.
and time moves,
and,
maybe,
i move.