The girls turn to look at him;

Let’s all steal a glance before he goes.


See the way he moves; flashing his radiant smile,
Flowing in and out of conversation, smooth as the River Nile
then stops abruptly and winks at every skirt that passes by?

You’re really pretty; can I have you tonight?
His baritone rattles the strings in my underwear
I may be foolish to think that I’m special,
But this kind of electricity for me is quite rare.
Will my escapade with him tonight be inconsequential?
Just look at him; I don’t think so.

He’ll hurriedly strip me of my stockings because I already got rid of dignity,
Then rub off my face- when has an orgasm ever been hindered by identity?
I will scream and moan, and pray he calls me by name,
I’ll bend over, bite my lips, shut my eyes and feel no shame-
I’ll try to look at him but I can’t see him, just as he can’t see me.

I will be imprisoned by panic as he empties the last of his lust-
Into me, because my fairy-tale is over before it even began.
I will reach out for a kiss but the look on his face signals that our time is done.

To him I’m a faceless stranger;
From whom he sipped a cup of pleasure,
which has already trickled down his throat

And sucked the vigor from his once revving motorboat.
He will reach for his wallet and bless me with enough to pay my light bill,
bought and packed, right there at the sex till,
I can’t look at him any longer, he’s not as beautiful as he used to be.

Let him pass me by, be as cold as snow,
I am wet, but my boat he will not row
No dazzling knight shall tread on my camel toe,
So don’t look at him baby girl, let him go.


Images by:

David Gichuru via http://www.davidgichuru.com/

Marie Ainomugisha via http://soafricane.com/


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