I will tutor you when there’s nothing left: dead girlfriends, science failures, pocket money banned since Tuesday. I’ll buy you coffee, your regular order, some days hot, others iced, and I’ll rewrite tests and you’ll create answers, and like songwriting teams we’ll spend late nights in cafes, libraries, each other’s bedrooms, and the dropping home is the only improper time section I can guess or protect, predict. We won’t do anything because you’ve got commitments to god, to girls in general, and I’ve got a girlfriend and my girlfriend has a mother and I’d lie but I won’t: I’ve thought about it.
I say, “Pass the test, I’m praying for you,” but I’m an Atheist, passively hoping you’ll fail, knowing that there’s no win, and either way, two people go home together and, you know. I wonder if we’ll ever you know.