Rooftop Wedding in NYC, way after 1995

Look at that girl, fifteen and full of hope
slash anticipation slash anxiety slash bizarre dreams.
Her dreams are always unusual
like she learns it is not normal
to remember multiple dreams throughout the night
she takes pride in her dream recall.
Her mother blames the Stephen King novels
on her antique nightstand the flashlight under covers.
But in September 1995 a different sort of dream,
a boy and an upcoming night a school dance.
Paul Keller a senior to her sophomore, tall and gangly
prone to tripping over his white Converse All Stars.
He was cool in that he had a lot of friends
he didn’t just hang out with the surfers and the Mormons,
though he did attend the local LDS chapter and
his bleached hair always stuck up in the ocean breeze.
Mormons were dangerous to her
(she was a good little Christian girl, after all)
which no doubt added to the appeal
(What about a wedding? Would he convert?
She wouldn’t be allowed in the temple, right?
And what about their kids? Surely he would permit her
to raise their children in the church?)
But why was that little girl so anxious?
(she thought she was so mature back then
so wise beyond her years
but her purple lipstick gave her away)
So fraught with thoughts of what ifs and what thens
and will he, or rather when will he—
always the optimist and the planner
and she just wanted to know
if he would be a good kisser and
if he would be a good boyfriend.
Was it normal to daydream about luring him
over to her house to her bedroom covered
in posters of STP and Pearl Jam
so that she could plant one on him
while they “practiced dancing” before the magical night?
Look at that pretty girl, flat on her quilted bed
staring up at Scott Weiland and actually believing
a school dance would be magical
just because it was called “Homecoming”,
even though it was held in the crummy school gym
garnished with gaudy streamers
and blue and white balloons.