Fantasy Girl

Here there is music and sweat and smoky delusions. Here there is a throbbing beat that you feel through your core. Here there is hair whipped and hips swinging and exhibitionism at it's best. And here I am, and I know you see me. I know the words, every one, to this thing we call music these days; it seems off the cuff but every move has been calculated to make you salivate and want. Right now you want another beer, and you want a bathroom without a line, but mostly you want me. I know this, I'm counting on it.

Here I am, here I am, come and get me, try why don't you. Sweep this way, flick that way, each carefully choreographed move. And now you are walking this way, and I am dropping to the floor and oh so slowly rolling up again. And you see and you want. A laugh, dashed over my shoulder and shattering on the wall. My girls, the ones who think I'm here with them, try to join in. They don't see through the charade, no one does. Frustrating, to be so good at this that no one challenges me.

Here you are now, and you hands are questioningly fingering my waist. And for a moment I let you Believe; then my fingertips are outstretched and they see the universal distress signal and pull me away. And later we talk about Creepers, with you holding the title of Most Supreme. And everyone is playing my game, and I am always winning.

I'll see you next weekend.