David Keefe
That December
The band only knew one number,
so their encore was Can’t Buy Me Love,
strummed through again. We still stomped
and cheered, mostly glad it was them,
not us, under the gym spotlights.
He was waiting for her outside school
in his parents’ warm car. I’d only risked
one dance. But I should have grasped
that night how easy life could be: the sad
way she looked back over her shoulder.
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