Unsticking our young dimpled thighs from the leather seats
We swirl sodas, lemon bitter, in the back of your moma's old car with the fresh smell
Banging our shins into the metal girding of Coney Island's landmark Ferris wheel,
We were landmarks ourselves, clutching each other hard, squeals high in our throats
Caught there with the lemon soda and honey grains of covered peanuts
Salt Wind ruffled our hair and his name was Billy, he was ours for the summer
We danced with him sharp and gentle on our legs covered in girl fuzz
Isn't it just grand to have our taunts and jeers still rough in our bodies,
Still young and sweet enough to draw lines across each other's palms, and promise We are Sisters;
'Cause you know tomorrow, we'll forget it all.