In the eighties, I had a radio.
I had a real bad haircut
And nowhere to go except Aladdins Castle and Eckerd Drugs.
She had sweat bands, she liked to break dance.
She wore a pair of shiny parachute pants.
I was geek and she was a superstar.
Was it just, was it just, was it just too much to ask?
Worlds were in the space between us.
I guess I shouldve made a sacrifice
Or tried to meet her set of standards.
I had a pretty good collection of Masters of the Universe.
I had Boba Fett and Greedo and I was pushing seventeen.
She had tapes of Chaka Khan and Kenny Loggins,
She knew how to backwards skate.
She had eyes that looked around for the boys
Who I had lately grown to hate.
At the time I was working on a novel
Just another fruitless side distraction.
I sometimes wondered what she would think of that
What if I had wowed her with some fiction
Over wine and crackers by a lakeside?
Would she have just stood back up and moonwalked home?
was it just too much to ask?
Worlds were in the space between us.
I guess I shouldve made a sacrifice
Or tried to meet her set of standards.
But she didnt have respect for the Stray Cats,
I didnt have respect for that.
Rubiks Cubes were not my style and theyre still not
I was into D
