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