I'm starting to think Saturday's are supposed to be late mornings because breakfast lasts longer that way. Leaving around 4 to catch a settled sun. Hundreds of merchants in the park as the live music goes from the close bluegrass bop to the distant rock drums. Saturday's have become ears filled with Spanish noises you've learned to ignore because the pain of dancing still in your toes from your night of bachata speak louder. Walking to the ferria as the sun settles and since you're alone you finally get to listen and watch without being interrupted bites of alfajores sweeter with the solitude. Finding your love in each couples palms as they hold hands, remembering how much you miss your boyfriend as you walk in the direction of the sun. So settled and strong it looks as if it's rising like your hips used to do as you felt loved. Steps feel lighter and your shirt blows with the wind and for once you start to think this is what You always wanted out of this. Finding your face in the rips of a passerbys jeans, feeling your muscles as you wonder where the stairs lead to. Today you had time. Watching backflips that demanded applause and handcrafts that merchants hope you'll take off their hands. All the while it's only 6 o clock on a Saturday and you feel as if the day won't be as perfect as it is right then. Feeling like the first kiss on the Friday night, you waited and it finally came. Saturdaze.