I wanted to marry the boy from the U2 War album cover. My babysitter played Sunday Bloody Sunday on loop for hours. She had long blonde hair that hung like rain down her skinny back. She looked like 1979 even in the 80's. I remember that she told me the little boy would grow up to be a fox. She told me all about boys as she braided my hair. She told me how she was going to marry this tall boy on Pilgrim Road and be an artist. She told me that when you kiss boys you feel sick. She said there was something called love sickness. She said she had it bad. I told her that I would be a professional roller skater and made her watch me roll back and forth on the thick concrete slab front porch as we listened to U2. I would keep her focused on my pink glitter toe stop. On my purple kneed pads as I skated past and made her laugh. I would try dangerous skate tricks to stop her from talking about love so much. At night when I was alone in my bedroom I would kiss the poster of the little boy so gently. I would lick his cheek and I would whisper words that scared me. Like love. Like future. Like sickness.