I caught fleeting glimpses of her throughout my night, Like she'd wandered from a beatific dream into the half-light.
And I sighed, For a girl had caused me to pause and blink; Astonished by her tender magnificence, I dared to hope to think. What could I say?
By the Spanish Arch as daylight subsided I sought her amongst the droves of the intoxicated.
Hanging around near the end of the day, Waiting for the crowd to come out and play. She lingered by the water's edge, With another group, their tale yet unsaid. A megaphone blared her brazen attitude into the air, A bottle of Buckfast was her chalice to bear; She supped the vicious liqueur, It's contents not as dark as her charcoal hair. Latina. Wild eyes. What could I say?
Then the guards came and scared us all away.
A street-party was going down in The Latin Quarter, downtown, The tides of people made it hard to get around. Deftly, I waded through the massive crowds to find my friends in the tavern above. Later, across the way in an infamous pub, She resurfaced from the masses, megaphone still up, With an expression that said: Wanna play?
Her eyes spoke volumes of venturous exploits, This night but a chapter of expedition in a book of conquest.
Those pupils that glimmered had something magic in them: A soft disregard for the world and calm anticipation. What should I have said?
Hispanic allure is hard to cure, And it reminds me so much of one other; I'll never forget her, despite my bit speaking to her.