Martha Graham might not be proud

Cucala, cucala
que cucala, que cucala
plays live in front
of "improvisational"
chicks,
jamming to a beat called
"pay attention to me".
Hair down,
hands running through stringy blonde locks--
when the right man
turns a peak.

Ismael Rivera once sang this song to me.
I moved to it at this LES spot,
and thought of being teased by him,
by him, or
by him.

That conga hit me hard--not like the eyes diverted after opening legs,
but swift, stellar, almost beastly like punches in my hips.
I did my feet magic with my LatinAs,
laughing at the gringa looking
stale, pale, and possessed.
I was afraid to be obvious
but my excess is my affect.

What did she carry inside of her?
Did she know the sounds (like the words) were teasing her?

Cucala, cucala
Que ella sabe...