Cheryl

I’m wiggin’ out over Dr. Kildare, that dimple
in his chin and those dreamy blue eyes, humming
the theme song “Three Stars Will Shine Tonight.”

 

Ziggy storms in like the good old days,
hair in soup can rollers,

 

“Bob Dylan crashed his motorcycle.
Broken neck.
Concussion.
Critical condition.”

 

We sob listening to his album Highway 61 Revisited,
singing “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry.”

 

I unpin her rollers, brush out her hair.
She irons mine. “Let’s go cruisin’.”

 

We drag Van Nuys Boulevard in Bubba’s beater,
flirting with bleached blond surfers in a woodie.

 

Ziggy peels out, ditching them for Bob’s Big Boy,
cranking The Lovin’ Spoonful, “Do You Believe in Magic?”

 

We share a banana split, extra whip cream and cherries,
celebrating 2 hours, 43 minutes without talking about the
two you-know-whos.

 

“Who needs them?”