Leon S. Kennedy

My pretty wife in a ball gown, me in a tuxedo, getting married in a courthouse, writing quick vows, kissing in front of the judge. My teenage wife and I made a wedding band I could die with. It’s an American wedding, they don’t mean much, but we were so in love. Mrs. Kennedy she signed her name in pen, in fancy cursive. Then she turned in her final papers, a thesis. After school she ran up to me, but her parents didn’t know yet, she said she’d had a terrible summer, so I said “Baby, don’t take it so hard, but maybe we should get an annulment before it goes too far.” It’s an American wedding, they don’t mean much, they don’t last long enough. American divorce. “You can have my Mustang, it’s all I have to my name… But Jesus Christ, don’t break my heart. This wedding ring will never fade.”