The click of gears rusting, the brain slowing,
I feel it surely as can be, that groaning halt
as the great steel husks echo, a shuddering clang
that crashes through the empty air.
You point to the formula before me,
college young, youth fresh, frustrated.
“It’s not rocket science!” you fume, enfuriated
that my young brain cannot comprehend.
Algebra, your lover and I, we do not understand.
I don’t see y I should find out about your x.