How is summer school? I can’t wait until you finally graduate and we can be together once more.
I wanted to say, I’m sorry I left you all alone at the drive-in movie—but at the moment I truly felt you were a fake and a phony, and wished I’d never laid eyes on you.
And I’m going to be honest, I just keep replaying it in my mind and can’t stand the thought of you and Cha Cha DeGregorio at the dance, hand jive-in’ up a storm. I don’t care if she IS allegedly the “best” “dancer” at St. Bernadette’s, she’s no business dancing with my Danny.
When you look at me with those steely blues, I just want to trade in my integrity, slap on some black leather tights, and have you drive me up into the clouds in your flying car.
You fill out a black t-shirt like no other T-bird I know. You fill out the white ones pretty well, as well.
We go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da ding da dong, and there is no denying it. And, you know what? I don't care who reads this, because I firmly believe: Chang chang changity chang shoo bop. That’s the way it should be.
Hopelessly devoted to you,
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