At A Certain Bar Poem by Gert Strydom

There’s a bevy of beautiful faces,
moving slender limbs
and catching music that entrances
while the lot of them dances.

Liquor flows like water
and lights glitter on the glass
in front of me
and the cup of golden hunters,
bubbles over the brim
and my sight is full
of girls with alluring glances.

There’s something lascivious
in every touch of eye on eye
and movement that they make
and firm and shapely breasts
of different sizes quiver along,
with the intoxicating madness
of the music.