Needless Things: College Classroom is on Fire

The summer sun was blazing high, No cloud, no breeze, no hint of sky. The A/C wheezed its final breath— Inside the class, we sweat to death.

The prof walked in, then stopped mid-stride, His lecture notes now slightly fried. But no one heard a single word— ‘Cause what we saw was quite absurd.

The heat was wild, the fans were broke, The chalkboard melted into smoke. And all around, to our surprise, Came rolling eyes and steamy sighs.

The girls stood up with zero shame, “This uniform? Who’s really to blame?” With sleeves rolled high and buttons low, They let that summer fever show.

One tossed her blazer, one her tie, Another fanned her collar dry. Skirts took flight like warm-breeze sails— The room lit up with flirty tales.

It wasn’t fire, not exactly flame— But hearts were racing just the same. The prof just blinked, unsure what’s real, (Then dropped his chalk and missed a heel.)

We didn’t learn a single thing, Except what sultry heat can bring. So if you ask what sparked desire— It wasn’t books… it was attire. NNN