Passers By

It's never fun passing by a beautiful woman. You always wonder what's fucking her in that mind she so elegantly carries. You wonder what she's up to in these promiscuous nights, when you pass her on the so-called, light of day.
These women. They're all different. Some wanting more. Some wanting love. Some wanting to fuck. While others, in pain and just wanna stop trying (usually the low-lifes...but I'm not perceptive).

But then there is the mysterious one. She comes in all shapes and sizes. She has different vices; alocohol, cigarettes, kama sutra, cunnilingus, sex. She is everywhere and for some reason she is always alone, like she is waiting for someone to take her on doggystyle. Sitting by the Mugg & Bean, having coffee. Sitting at the Menlyn arena, having a cigarette. The aisle of the liquor store, grabbing the bottle of vodka and whiskey. The tavern in Soweto, slowly moving to the bass. The till of the supermarket (what is in that bag???).
Passing me by, in the street, while I smoke my cigarette.

I sense common ground from this bundle of sex and beauty...enjoying the small moments of life. I can hear her wanting me to do things to her. I can hear her whisper shit to me. I can hear her heels in the busy district of Sandton. I can hear her saying something to me in that head of hers...

I just never cared to ask...yet.