Hot summer days when we rode our bikes, 
pretending to be Hell’s Angels
And all I wanted was to be an angel for you –
Maybe one of Charlie’s Angels,
Who you ran inside to see religiously.

The nights I would run in with you,
To a dark room filled with pre-teen toys, 
Models, and Starsky and Hutch
On the wall watching, knowing – How could I know?
Lips that didn’t know a kiss from a cootie,
But they ached to touch yours.

We put aluminum foil on the antenna
So we could watch Eric Estrada
Ride his cool bike and we’d dream
Of grown-up days when we could ride
Free, free of our bicycles.

And John Travolta was so hot
And why wouldn’t you spin me
Around your room
Like we had the Fever?

Instead, I learned to like
The clumps of dirt you threw
When my folks dug the well,
My dodging my own dance,
Secretly dancing with you.

I didn’t want to sell all that lemonade to you,
I wanted to give it away, give you everything -
The table, the cups, the dimes,
If you would show me,
If only you would let me be
More than your buddy.

And I worshipped you enough to play my nose,
Put a finger to the side and blow weird noises
Like invisible snot,
Just like you showed me to over the fence.

I wanted you to come see me at the hospital
When I got my tonsils out.
But your sister came instead,
And I wanted my tonsils back
Because you never came.

And now that John Travolta is so hot again,
Are you going to sit there
And pretend that you don’t have
The Fever?


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