There was a man in Acapulco,
Where the waves wash as high as the mountains.
And in the wet wind of June,
My foolish old heart wanted to kiss him.

His echo swirled around me like chocolate,
When his hand took mine, helping me
In and out, on and off.
Our words not saying what they meant.

Late one evening, against a cold wall
The truth escaped his lips.
Two girls and a boy. And a wife.
Just a car, a man, and my imagination.