I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines :: songs and poetry


Beauty School Drop-Out
(by me)

She was intoxicating to be around,
I could be drunk on her for days.
She would grab my hand and rush me through the halls,
taking her felt-tipped pens out,
writing Tonya + Jake everywhere,
especially in the bathroom stalls.

I usually just watched,
smiled in appreciation,
wondering what it would be like to be Jake,
to warrant that kind of reckless abandoned affection.

She liked to stick out,
to cause a scene,
wearing only clothes from the 50’s,
speaking with a British accent,
even though she had never left Southern California,
not even for a day.

Her Mother shook her head at us,
singing along to Buddy Holly,
pinning a broach to her pale pink sweater set,
finding undiscovered treasures at the local charity store.

I never met Jake,
only saw him in pictures,
listening to some of his letters read aloud,
the ones she would share.

He called her ethereal.
He called her transcendent.
He called her his teen angel.
He called her his back-seat dream.

Jake was in jail then,
doing the real bad boy thing.
Caught with a gun at the drive-in,
(I can’t believe there was still drive-in’s then).

We went there once,
sat on the swings,
got cotton candy in our hair,
sang Sandy at the top of our lungs.

She is part of my high school memories,
sketched in my mind,
like her signature in my yearbook:
Stay Sweet.
Never Change.
James Dean Forever.

I wonder where her forever is,

Baby, I’m Yours :: The Arctic Monkeys

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