Bullring
© 1990, Herb Hasler
The
ever-present pounding of
a driving back-beat,
pulsing and heating the
stale dark air.
All
around,
energy,
movement,
contact,
sex.
I
stand in the eye of the storm,
watching the forms, carried on
waves of sound, moving gracefully
in syncopation and harmony.
It's
a room full of beautiful mannequins,
animated in the motions of seduction.