|You'll know you're a '90s kid if you can name this TV show.|
By Rachel E. Watson
I am asked to sing at a ’90s throwback party.
The guests will wear acid wash jeans, unbuttoned
flannel shirts, crop tops, high tops and flat tops,
scrunchies securing towering side ponytails.
I search YouTube for a suitable set list:
perhaps Destiny’s Child or Spice Girls,
Britney or TLC, Smash Mouth, Barenaked Ladies,
'N Sync, Boyz II Men or Backstreet Boys.
I don Hammer pants and a windbreaker,
and try to relax as memories of how very,
very uncool I was then sweep past me
like one of the fast kids at the roller rink.
I cling to one important thing as I ring
the hostess’ doorbell and walk into a
living room that looks like the Huxtables’:
I lived through this once. I can do it again.
Copyright © Perception 2015.
Read more of my poetry blog posts here.