SEX DANCER

Boy was watching a Madonna music video in the TV room. The one where she takes off her wig. Struttin' around with a black wig and then she was sittin' in the chair with a blond wig.
It was scary and cool, and then it was normal and it was surprising. It was surprising at first and it was surprising later. It became a fond memory.
There was a little boy in the music video who was a little older than himself. He felt himself akin to the boy, and Madonna akin to his older sister Melanie.

Melanie was sometimes a mystery, pretty, bad girl just like Madonna. They were both Italian and Mom yelled at the both of them.
The boy desperately wanted to go in and see the hidden thing. He knew it was sexy because it wasn't allowed for him to see or do it. He needed a ticket and he needed an 18 or a 21. He only had a 5 or a 6 maybe.
Inside he couldn't see the two men behind the glass with their arms around each other. Outside the TV, the real boy, the me boy, had a loaded boy-toy in his pocket. Didn't tell nobody. Didn't think it was right, but he didn't understand why he knew it was wrong.
The two men had thin lips and side parts. The me boy wanted to look like them when he grew up but his hair was too curly and dark. Wouldn't lay flat like the beautiful military gentlemen.
And were they ever gentle! And handsome.
They peered around each other in a stiff embrace with clasped hands, starched collars, and smooth gazes. Blond and dirty blond slicked sideways, they watched Madonna sing and gyrate with still smooth gazes, stern jaw lines jutting mouthways, and their view lasting only moments.
Madonna gets off work, just like Melanie does at Boscov's. The boy, the me boy, waited long stretches in the small windy room between the 1st entrance and the second entrance. I called the operator on the pay phone and hung up to pass the time, ever fearful that police would find out and arrest me. Although I was slightly aroused by the idea of being taken away.
Eventually Melanie would never show up. Madonna came to collect the boy outside of of the inside secret. He was a pretty little boy. Madonna noticed too and she knew he deserved a kiss. It was a funny feeling. It was warm outside. Inside the TV, their silhouettes skipped down the street in a dancy sort of way, towards the evening in the summer.