"Sometimes it is hard to tell a story.  It is not hard to tell the sparkling parts, the ones that stick out in one’s mind like gleaming gems, showing through the blandness of one’s whole autobiography.  Those are easy.  What can one say about the interim?  I hardly remember my first few hours as an electrician.  It seems to me that I strolled around and perhaps had a pastry.  But then, many things only seem to me.  The sparkle of narrative did not ignite until later that evening, when a veritable diamond crossed my path.  The metaphor does, in fact, carry nicely.  I am not sure what first attracted me to her- maybe the freshness of her face, maybe the radiance of her legwarmers.  They were purple, and sewn through with bright sequins.  She was, in short, a perfectly attired little Bohemian, but there is so much more one could say.  Perhaps a more formal blazon is in order: 
                                    Her hair was short as an autumn day
                                    With just its breeze in its lay
                                    Eyes wide with blue ice inside
                                    Penetrating orbs, the fire implied
                                    The neck so perfect, the frame so trim
                                    Graceful limbs moved by whims
                                    A wisp of a skirt covered her hips
                                    A dark red tint colored her lips.
                                    Beauty so live a glance almost hurt
                                    She wore a band’s T-shirt, it said:
THE JERKS
And there she was, all of a sudden, only a breath away from me as I approached an intersection.  A red hand flashed at the crosswalk.  I stopped.  Without hesitation, this little lark hopped of the sidewalk and continued across the street with her normal stride.  The sound of car horns and screeching breaks followed in her wake like the grumbling of so many disconcerted banshees.  Oh, the horror!  I felt sure that her young life would be taken, her existence wrung from my hands only moments after I had discovered it.  But no, this little tryst with mortality was intentional!  Half way through the street one unfortunate car stopped too near for her liking.  She paused, resolutely, in the exact middle of its lane.  She peered through the vehicle’s windshield and stared at the driver full in the face.  Narrowing her eyes, she baffled him with him with the full force of her glaring disapprobation.  Turning on her heal, she reached the sidewalk just as the “Walk” symbol began to flicker over the crossing."