Bell rings, in class again, with Shim trippin' <br />Over my outstretched legs. Head back, eyes closed, <br />I'm guessin' answers to this question posed. <br />Convertin' grams to moles, I'm grippin' <br />My pencil, writin' 'gainst the clock, gropin' <br />For my calculator. Now I've exposed <br />Myself as a fool who can't add and dozed <br />Off early last night. So now I'm flippin' <br />Out 'cause the test's a week away and I'm <br />Royally screwed. The answer's up. Again <br />I'm wrong. Damn SigFigs. Smiles of perverse glee <br />Radiate from Shim. He speaks: 'This time <br />It was a tricky one...' and my wracked brain <br />Wonders: 'Is it too late to take history? '<br /><br />Mark Sane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-ode-to-chemistry/
