I remember thinking you weren't gonna show,
that what we had was just some sort of concoction
spun up by my own imagination,
a distraction protecting me from the painful reality
that you'd never be my own.

I remember preparing myself to be immersed in that
miserable reality, though,
getting ready to go home and explain to my mom
that what I'd thought was something
had really been nothing all along.

But just as I was about to give up
and pursue that hopeless journey
of reliving my greatest misapprehension,
there you were in a bright yellow t-shirt,
waiting at the top of the hill.

I remember walking up to see you standing there,
putting bait on your fishing line
as if that was your only care.

I remember how music was blaring from your truck's radio,
like you were some sort of cool guy
I'd never get the chance to know.

But I could tell that was all just an act,
because, man, did you turn around fast
the second I said hello.

And who could forget those shades.
You know, the ones you kept on
the entire time we were together.
I guess you were just afraid that without them,
I'd see right through that wall you'd built up
to keep me from knowing how you really felt.

But little did you know you'd already given yourself away...

I remember how badly your hand shook
as you put more bait on the line,

How big you smiled at all the stories I told
and every single joke of mine,

How surprised you were when I asked you to sit
because you didn't know what to do,

And how much space you made sure to leave between us
when I sat down next to you.

The funny thing is,
I bet I could recall more details about that single summer day
than I could about the past sixteen years of my life.

And the sad truth is,
no matter how badly I wish to move on from that summer,
I'll never forget the way you once felt for me
and how happy I was to see you waiting there
in that bright yellow t-shirt.