Mrs. G from English B

The instructor said, 

Go home and think of me 
before bed tonight. 
And let boy hood come out of you---
Then, it will be true. 

I wonder if it’s that simple? 
I am twenty-two, student, born in Jersey
I had my first affair there, then another, then here 
In this college on the hill above Miami. 
I’m the only one she looks at in class. 
The steps from the lips lead down into wet forest 
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas, 
who acknowledges my gift-givings, and I come to the Y, 
the splitting at the thighs, where I take the elevator 
up to my room, sit down, and play with you: 

It’s not easy to know what is true for you and me 
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess we are what 
we feel and see and taste, Maestra de Miami, I taste you: 
taste you, taste me---we two---you, me, dine in bedsheets. 
(I hear your lessons too.) Me---who? 
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and play. 
I like to work, read, learn, and live unrestricted life. 
I like an A for a Christmas present, 
or another class with you---French, English, Anatomy. 
I guess being student doesn’t make me NOT like
The same things other folks like who have doctoral degrees
So will this be a one night fling? 
Being me, it will not be 
But it will be 
a part of you, instructor. 
you are older---
yet now a part of me, as I am a part of you. 
That’s American. 
Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me. 
Nor do I often want to be a part of you. 
But we are drawn physically, that’s true!
As I learn from you, 
I guess you learn from me---
although you’re older---a milf---
and somewhat free. 

I cannot wait for the office hours of English B