Dr. Cho's MathRoom

Oh Lord of sine loco
I have been to Flushing
and had to take the twenty-five
gingerly down Kissena.
I have ridden the G past
midnight from the Queens'
hemisphere into Brooklyn.
I have been on the M sixty
with flight attendants
and Greek Venuses.
I have hailed gypsy cabs
in the Meatpack, and passed
on hyenas at LaGuardia.

But I was not aware Dr. Cho
had a MathRoom. That is something
I had yet to peep, seomthing ex-
hilarating and schemasmashing like
making out on the ferry or being
startled by a rat posse or putting
your ear to public phone without
watching the receiver or wearing gloves
to handle materials that could crumble
if you sneeze the wrong way.

No sirs, I did not get that communique,
the delegates did not make mention, zero
motions, because if I had I gaurantee
that I would have made that call, done
that thing that would land me transfixed
in the jowls of Dr. Cho. I would have
backpeddled from the Battery to the Cloisters;
I would have put my bookbag in the face
of a pissed off lady; I would have made
offerings to Guadalupe with duct tape
and hominies; I would have howled with
severe melancholy from the tops of tenements.