Nineteen Ninety Eight

Bubble gum flavoured, power pop nostalgia. When the lights in our heart blinked as furiously as those in our sneakers, when Baby and Posh and Ginger sang their sticky commercial dance tracks to us, and we loved them for it. When Johnny still loved Winona and we were true. Hurt was hurt, anger was anger and joy was joy. Before we were taught to feel shame we were bratty liars, story-tellers, playground bullies, sandbox lovers. The days were long and evenings were fluorescent jelly fantasies, storybook glories. Sometimes I miss you, 1998.