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.