"Ric Flair Drip" by Madalyn Stanley

When I was in 8th grade, my favorite song was Ric Flair Drip. 

It was immensely popular, played at the school dance. 

Blasted in my pink and black Skullcandys on the way to dance, 

Boomed from the Bose speaker in the bonus room, 

Spilled out of my Beats Pill on our bikes. 

Ric Flair Drip was not exclusive to me. 

A sign of the times, it blared from a speaker

attached to that one kid’s backpack in school. 

Crackled from the giant speakers on the swings at the fair, 

Exploded out of my dad’s Kings Ranch F250’s slammed speakers, 

And shook the rear view mirror out of place in my ex-boyfriend’s sketchy shitbox. 

I try to explain all of this to you, while you laugh in my face. 

The same beats that shaped my existence were unknown to you. 

My eyes widened, as you told me you had never heard that song before, 

And I realized, right then, the lives we lived before each other were separate. 

You didn’t get to hear how awesome I played low notes on my bass clarinet at my middle school band concert. 

You missed me winning Outstanding Dancer at

the National Association of Dance and Affiliated Arts. 

You never met my neighbors from my childhood home, who I rode down my driveway with on boogie boards in a torrential downpour. 

However, I never got to watch you play Sandy in your high school production of Grease. 

I missed out on watching you walk at graduation with your twin brother. 

And I never got to sing karaoke with you in Maine. 

I met you when I was 17, and up until then, our lives were parallel lines. 

Even though I had only known you two weeks, there was still a box of Sour Patch Watermelon tied on my door when I got home

from my boyfriend confessing his infidelity. 

You still wrote me a birthday card expressing

how deserving I was of experiencing love. 

You still held my hand as we walked to the room where everyone was getting ready to go out the first nights of college,

but I couldn’t, because I was only 17. 

I met you when I was 17, when I thought I knew myself. 

As it turns out I had never experienced the truest version

of myself without you. No matter how much life I had lived, I felt as though

I’ve known you forever. 

It wasn’t until I realized you didn’t know Ric Flair Drip,

That I realized I had not. 

Matilyn

I’m not a religious person, 

But I do sometimes think God made you for me.

I stretch the tendons in my hand every time we touch, 

Because you give me so much feeling I don’t know how to contain. 

I can’t wait to spend the rest of eternity with you, 

And make many memories together we don’t know how to live without. 

Like when I read you this poem, and you laugh again at how stupid Ric Flair Drip is. 

But I don’t care, because it’ll always remind me of you, 

And how our parallel lines have finally crossed.