At twelve my friends read Teenbeat and wrote to Peter Frampton

Hung staple-scarred Leif Garret posters by their beds

It all seemed rather shallow, (my love was more mature)

It was the kind that ripped an adolescent heart to shreds

All week I'd dream about him in science and in math class

I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep ‘til Saturday arrived

Then I'd don my macram