"Hey, what's the matter man?
We're gonna come around at twelve, With some Puerto Rican girls
'just dyin' to meet you.
We're gonna bring a case of wine
Hey, let's go mess and fool around, You know,
like we used to"

Miss you-Rolling Stones

I am old enough to remember this song when it first hit the radio and I recall thinking that guy must of been some kind of depressed. What sort of guy wouldn't be stoked to head downtown for some healthy fun? Or, probably more to the point, what sort of woman had ruined him to the point that it didn't interest him in the least.

I mean, seriously, we are talking about Puerto Rican girls here. Plural.
Yes, these are the women who drink Rum and coke like Kool aid and never get drunk. Yes, their skin reminds you of cafe au lait. Their hair swirls around them as they walk (glide, really) and yes, they wear brightly colored skirts that look like murals spray painted on the sides of streetcars.

They find all the best street parties. You know, the ones with grilled food, live bands and rows of Chinese lanterns that hang across alleyways.

Puerto Rican girls, with their beautiful smiles and come hither eyes. If a friend of yours brought a set of these to your apartment, you would follow them anywhere. Even if you were a rich, should be retired rock star, who might be sulking over the one that got away.
That is what I was thinking back then, some thirty years ago. I haven't changed my mind about it.

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