Do not ask me a question,
Then at my less than quick reply,
Mark a zero for participation.

When I stand up in a crowd and shiver and shake,
Do not be amused by my harsh stutter of words,
for my mind is 80 miles faster than my mouth could ever hope to be.

(A classmate, louder than myself, is still proud to bring up
My 35 out of 36
And, to be true, I thank her)

My mind starts to match the weather outside
And turn to ice.
And, just like the glaciers,
Move inches a day.
But at the end of the week
I’ve moved several feet
and I’ve carved into the rock behind me
subtle sections and layers
spread out like a book
just for me to read.

So
Do not ask me a question
Until I’ve gone back to the start
And re-read what I’ve learned and I know.

Do not ask me a question, unless you’ve got time
For I will not stop

                                 once I’m ready

                                                                to go.