THE AP MARATHON, a poem by Nandan Kamalakannan

 THE AP MARATHON

The syllabus drops like an anchor of lead,

A mountain of chapters to hold in your head.

The midnight lamp burns as the coffee grows cold,

A marathon journey of the brave and the bold.

You chart out the limits approaching to zero,

Hoping the friction won't conquer the hero.

You map the parabolas, finding the focus,

Praying the formulas aren't hocus-pocus.

There's torque and momentum that spin on a wheel,

And simple harmonic vibrations you feel.

Then over to Java, where objects await,

Constructing the classes and setting the state.

Compiling the logic with syntax so strict,

Chasing the bugs that you couldn't predict.

You graph out the shifts on the supply curve line,

As your marginal utility starts to decline.

You weigh all the costs of the choices you make,

When sleep is the ultimate trade-off you take.

The balance is brutal, the schedule is tight,

Between crushing a serve and studying all night.

You swing for the baseline and run down the court,

Then trade in the racket to write a report.

When May finally arrives with its bubbles and seals,

The ticking clock shows you how pressure truly feels.

But all of the rigor, the friction, the strife,

Is building the engine you’ll use in your life.