I didn’t know I was swaying. She spoke to me from the microphone, alone in a smoky club filled with men who knew every word. I didn’t know their meaning, but I knew their intentions – she was unmistakable.
“Suerte que despierto junto a ti.”
The sailors smiled in their boats, risking the rocks, inching forward with a great deal of effort, as she called to them. Their eyes noticed every swell in her breast as she tempted with gifts they could not comprehend, but desired nonetheless.
“Nadie tiene la razon de que exista el amor…”
I knew that desire. I could feel it rising inside me, keeping time with my escalating pulse. It wasn’t simply lust, somehow it went beyond that. A desire to fill, yes, but also a desire to fulfill and to be fulfilled. She instilled within me a sense of purpose, of wonder and of longing.
“No hay mas que las ganas de estar y volver a empezar.”
Her hair catches the light and blazes a deep hue of red. The men leave. She stops, descends, and takes my hand. Kisses me. I never stop swaying.