HENRY'S MALAGA.

A MAN WRITES A POSTCARD FROM SPAIN.

Dear Max, I’m in
Malaga enjoying

The sunshine, chilling
Out and walking about

When I’m in the mood
And taking in the sights

And the broads, and believe
Me, they’ve got some good

Looking senoritas here,
Enough to send a guy

Crazy just by looking
At them passing by.

One of the camareras
Here has the body to

Die for, and I guess there’s
A long list of guys out

Here whose eyes are
Out on stoppers just by

Gazing at her. Picasso
Was born here and if he

Could have seen her, I’m
Sure he would’ve painted

Her as she is and not in the
Style he usually did with

Dames. If I was an artist
I’d painted her myself,

But I’m not and so must
Capture what I can of her

With words, even though
Words seem too feeble to

Hold onto such beauty let
Alone give life to her or her

Beautifulness. Hope you
Like the postcard, Max,

But don’t show Betty, you
Know how she is with these

Things and how jealous she
Gets if I but mention other

Dames. Yours in the sun and
Warmth, and horny, Henry.