Boom-De-Boom-Boom

She was walking down the street and turning heads.
She had long dark hair, wore a summer dress and had a distinctive gait. Actually, you know, gait is not the right word for it, not by a long shot. She had a way of walking that was just boom-de-boom-boom.
She was walking down the street and turning heads and going boom-de-boom-boom.
I watched the guys stare, I watched the girls stare, I think even the pigeons stopped and stared.
Then one of those street cleaning vehicles came along, you know, the little ones with the twirling brushes at the front. It came along sucking up cigarette butts and sweet wrappers. The driver saw the boom-de-boom-boom. He slowed up. He whistled to catch her attention.
He whistled at her because maybe, just maybe, she would turn, see him in his street cleaning vehicle and jump in and they would ride off down the street together, sucking up cigarette butts and sweet wrappers, and go boom-de-boom-boom into the sunset.
She didn't turn.
It's a shame because, you know, that would've been a great thing to write about.