ode to the lady who fixed my enrollment

I was spiraling into a deep, dark depression spurred by enrollment and effing isis (whose ode will
come later, and it will be rated R)

If I were sacrilegious, I would write you a psalm.

If I were an artist, I would build a huge statue of you made of Cymbalta and put it in the middle of the quad.

If I were a boy, and not a student, and we had been dating for a while, and had defined the parameters of our relationship, and I could dig the chemistry between us, I would kiss you right on the mouth.