He comes to sit by me in the auditorium.

My hand looks pale on the leg of his ink black pants.

Feeling his taut muscles makes my heart beat quick,

And he smells so good, I think I might be sick with love.

He's telling me he finally found the place where he heard the dissertation,

The one he'd been wanting to hear.

And now he's found me and wants to read me,

And I can't bring myself to look at his face

For fear he won't be who I think he is.

-jenn