I walk with gusto because I simply cannot wait. A bouncy
kind of trot with my feet click click clicking against the pavement,
causing eyes to watch me glide by. I pay no mind. The street is
wet and glistening with a hundred colors, reflecting the world so that
one loses track of which way is up and which way is down.
The streetlights are my favorite, drawing long lines down the
black of the asphalt that lead me to more lights and the beginnings of
body heat that I crave, as steam leaves my lips in the cold.
I’m not dressed for the weather, but I don’t have to be. For now,
I relish the cold air wrapped around my thighs and stirring
my tightly-bound hair. I’ll remember this feeling when my tresses
become wet and the beads of sweat make their way down the small
of my back. We wait at the door, briefly, so a man can stamp our
hands and we can hold our cigarettes for a few extra moments
before making our way into the unknown. Even from the street
the bump bump bump of the bass tickles my bones and makes me
hold my breath with excitement. I observe closely the people
who enter before me – wearing neon this and light-up that,
or wings and fur like psychedelic beasts. I can eel their hearts
racing. I drop my cigarette and watch the embers bounce like
crickets at my feet. Then, I cross the threshold, ready for action.
Cambria Hines is a freelance poet and writer from central Iowa. She lives in a happy home with her boyfriend and their children, who are two fuzzy kitties. Cambria has traveled the country and draws from both her positive and negative experiences to write her short fictional stories and poems. When she is not fighting writers block, you can find her binge watching Netflix and putting shirts on her cats.