P/N: OOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGGGG! I am SOOOOOOO sorry to everyone! I didn't think it'd take me so long to update a freakin chapter. I mean, MONTHS? If I were reading this fic and stuff, I'd be FURIOUS if an author made me wait so long. So AGAIN, I will repreat : I'm soooooo sorry! I promise, that at the latest, I will try to update this every two weeks but PLEASE be patient with me my poetry readers. LOVE YOU AWESOME READERS! *hugs everyone*

ANYWAY, to this poem. Obviously, starts at season 2. And free verse. I wanted to make it all formed and what not but honestly, Arnold isn't too poetic, and he isn't daydreaming during this poem. He's just thinking.

I hope you enjoy this poem and I'm sorry for inadvertently putting this on enough of my apologies! Let's get on with the poem!

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HEY ARNOLD! IF I DID, THEN WE'D HAVE THE JUNGLE MOVIE AND THE PATAKIS!

ENJOY MY LOVELIES!

It was like something you see in the movies
She was beautiful
Smart
And…liked me?
I'm not sure why, but then…
I started to like her too…
She was,
After all,
My fair senorita.

Her lovely yellow tresses
Adorning her pretty face
And the best thing?
She actually knew my name!

But I guess I was fooling myself
I mean, really?
Ms. Felter?
She was like three times my age!
And all I had was Gerald's book,
"cool moves for happening dudes"

And then, there's Ruth.
Ruth McDougal.

Her amazing auburn hair,
Radiating delicately in the sunlight
Her brown eyes
Reflecting a glimmer of light…

I really thought I knew her
She seemed so…different
From afar
But then…
I got to know her.
She knew her hair was pretty.
She knew she was pretty.
And she knew I thought this.
Too bad she didn't know my name.

Ruth.
McDougal.
Miss.
Felter.
Both are goddesses in their own right.
Beautiful.
Powerful.
Influential.

But none of them are right for me.

None of them
took my breath away
Neither of them
make my heart skip a beat
Neither of them are right for me...
But that doesn't mean
I haven't met the girl who is...

P/N: For some reason, Arnold kind of keeps a torch for both Miss Felter and Ruth. But why? Since I am writing as his hidden, poetic subconscious, I'm writing my theory on the matter. After Cecile, no one is "right" for him.

UNTIL NEXT TIME (which will be sooner this time, I PROMISE!) AND PLEASE EVERYONE! REVIEW!