standing up in a class of fifty,
offering her answers, quite gently,
will the professor think she’s nifty,
or will he think of her differently,
she blushes, though she isn’t shifty,
discombobulation, incidentally,
answering, she mumbles – befuddled,
oh, no, her answers are muddled!
Walking home from class, gusts blow.
She feels her dress rise off her form,
Baring her rear, all red – she...
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