It was relatively nine When I walked To the plaza down The sidewalk past The bougainvillea that Bursts out the fence Like a volcano To go see the pigs That tip over The trash cans With their sense Of smell; And there she was Like a ghost On the bench With sad eyes Softly saying hello Through the yellow glow Of the streetlight Behind her And me being Relatively shy Loudly waved good bye And walked back past The church and The old school To emphatically sit Back gaze back At the past and In thought with Write about it.