Saturday, September 28, 2013

It's 1985, kid.

I met a shaggy-haired kid in 1985.
He defined himself with his disdain
for your existence, and his cutting-edge
devotion to New Wave giants Oingo Boingo.

I heard "Dead Man's Party" on the radio
this morning.  In an odd moment I felt
thirteen years old again, and wondered
if I'm still that awkward.  I think it's close.

From the dashboard they sang,
 Don't run away it's only me...
I hadn't thought of that kid 
in more than twenty years.

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