One Look at the Hip-Hop Club

By Eloísa Pérez-Lozano

I know you see me watching you, watching me from that far wall. You’re hot, but I don’t want you, though I’d like to think you want me. You’re looking for another conquest as you visually trace my figure. Shirt shaping my assets, holding them in a snug embrace.

I want to be the why behind your smoldering eyes as the blood in your veins begins to simmer. I want your hands to twitch, your fingers longing to cup, then clench, my curves below, framed in tight, flared jeans. I want your nose to itch and your lips to quiver when you nuzzle your face into the welcoming arch of my neck.

As you feel my hands running over your chest, weaving, grasping at your hair, your fingertips electric on my hips, I want you to burn for me from within. I long to bring you to the brink of explosion, to lead you to ecstasy in this to and fro, alluring as I lure you, a siren for a night.

But I come to the bars strictly for dancing, not dating and I don’t really need you, not even a little bit. That’s why my gaze only locks with your eyes for a second or two, enough for your interest to peak and my fantasies take flight.


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Eloísa Pérez-Lozano writes poems, flash, and essays about Mexican-American identity, women’s issues and motherhood. She graduated from Iowa State University with a B.S. in psychology and an M.S. in journalism and mass communications. A Best of the Net-nominated writer, her work has been featured in Every Day Fiction, Houston Chronicle, and Poets Reading the News, among others. She lives with her family in Houston, Texas.