Pole Girl

To the beautiful girl who rides the pole,
To the beautiful girl who created the hole,

In my heart.

A heart that is waiting for a Brief Encounter,
A moment lingering on past what could be considered polite.

Avoiding physical contact as much as possible,
I spend the long days, the frees, the lessons,
Thinking,
Not of the lesson plans that I should perhaps instead be doing,
But of the smile that lights up the staff base.
Handy, due to the unreliable motion sensor lights.

So I wait, patiently, for that moment of contact,
Not physical of course,
But of my rampant emotions as unchecked as a GCSE student,
Coming just that one bit closer,
Just one bit,
To you,
Pole Girl.