I know exactly who you are. You’re Kenny Fisher. We used to play Miami Vice in my basement. You used to sleepover at my house. You had to leave the hall light on every night. You’re Kenny Fisher who used to buy me a card every Valentine’s Day and a bag of those little hearts with the words on them. And you’re Kenny Fisher who suddenly got too cool to hang out with me when we hit junior high. Cause, I was in all the smart classes, and cause my parent’s didn’t make a lot of money. And cause you desperately needed to sit at the trendy table in the cafeteria.
Can’t Hardly Wait, Denise Fleming