"you can't see tits on the radio"

This is a conversation I had in my head with Linda Carter .

"Hi, Linda," I pretend say. "I don't want to come across pushy..."
"But you are pushing," Ms Carter responds. And I removed my imaginary hands from the made-up her.
"OK. This may seem a little psycho."
"This is all psychological," Ms Carter says in my head.
"And I'm not meaning to be desperate."
"But you are," Ms Carter says, stepping back.
"Can we go out," I say, and put towards the end, "sometime."
Ms Carter sort of snorts in my head, but not in a way I hear, in a way that I see and feel.
"I can't stand that you believe I'm wrong for you."
Ms Carter shakes her head. Still no.
"It's you that's right," and I seem to know this.
"Your not ready to impress me," Wonderwoman confesses, and I know better than she that it's true.
"I can't help to think that you've realized I'm..."
"Living in fiction," Ms Carter wonderfully finishes for me.
"Fiction is the only part of me I can look at with conviction," is all I'm saying in no way arguing with her, which in a sense would be myself. I'm just saying.
"Sure. It's sad but true," gift-giving Ms Carter goes.
"I know you," I quickly add.
"Now," Ms Carter says losing patience.
"Love you." I tell this to everyone who comes into my head.
"Not the real me," not-the real Ms Carter says.
"Miss you." I'm down to two-word sentences.
"TV me," she too it seems, with less letters.
"Still want you, but can't have you," I conclude.
"Shouldn't." And I think she's serious.
"But where are you going today?" I say as she goes around the corner and out my ear.

She'll always be Wonderwoman to me.