On calle ocho
A cuban man with guitar
Saw us stumble out of a bar
& beckoned us to dance
...but we never stopped

Laughing, you were always laughing
We spun around and around
& I knew we were bound
to fall out of orbit
...but we spun on

Spanish sweet nothings
Murmured in my hair
A sweet lullaby- a prayer
I held on to each syllable
...but I never *understood