Hang on just a little while longer, Rosalita. I’ll swear we’ll get out of this place.

You’ll tell your father you’re free and I’ll scrape the grime from under my fingernails and we’ll get in a great big car and put the top down assuming the rental place has a convertible available that day and we’ll drive, drive, drive. We’ll drive to somewhere where nobody knows our names and nobody hates us for being in love and no mean-eyed gang boys will ever flash their knives at us again or even their combs that are made up to look like knives so they’re just as scary in the shadows of these evil streetcorners. I hear Tucson is nice.

Then, Rosalita baby, we’ll find a big house with a big yard and French doors and those faucets with those big lever-like handles instead of those little wheels that you turn. We’ll leave those old-fashioned faucets behind like the urine stench in the gangways. We’ll have a baby or two babies and a dog and we’ll all run as free as the first 75 songs of a trial membership to eMusic. And we’ll finally have a GE Cordless 5.8GHz Triple Handset Phone System to call our own.

When they call us, when all the people from the old neighborhood try to tear us down, we won’t even hear them because we’ll see their numbers on the caller ID and we won’t answer the phone. I promise you, Rosalita. And if they leave messages on the Digital Answering System we’ll just ignore those too, because nothing they can say can ever cool the fire inside me that burns for you, my Rosalita.

I know the odds are against two crazy kids in love. But I believe, Rosalita. I believe a simple HVAC repairman like me and a waitress like you can beat anything this world can throw at us because souls like us, Rosalita, we just have to be free and wild and free. That’s why the next time I’m in your restaurant, I’m going to introduce myself and ask you out. Destiny is calling, Rosalita – in three selectable ring tones.

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