Hector Luis Lopez (aka Zepol) 1957 –
Hector Luis Lopez was born in New York City. His poetry reflects the beat of the urban jungle were he was raised and his travels. He writes on a variety of subjects and sometimes comments on societal problems. His writing is comical, compassionate, dark, pessimistic, and sometimes downright painful. His writing is solid and realistic and he deals skillfully when detailing the human experience. His poetry appears in two anthologies published by the Laurel Crown Foundation, and the Main Library of the City of San Antonio, Texas. In addition, his writing reflects an exposure to a variety of cultures. Mr. Lopez is a graduate of St. Leo University, Florida USA.
love for gabriela
in the dark, standing beside my bed,
i hear your underwear sliding off,
against your smooth skin.
you climb across my body,
and lay down beside me.
“Besame”
you whisper, “Besame”
this is when I forget everything
Note: Besame – Kiss me
Woman in the Red Dress
Walking down 42nd street on a Friday afternoon, I saw her standing in front of a Coffee shop. The skyscrapers were casting a shadow upon us and while I don’t actually think about these things on a conscious level, I know my mind was busy contemplating how I was going to approach her. You see, it all happens in a miniscule amount of time. Especially when you are accustomed to doing such things, like an athlete at any level, your muscle memory takes over and it happens. Sometimes you make the game ending shot and sometimes you don’t.
I really wanted to score; she was a dream, and in 1970s New York City, sex for a nineteen-year-old, ill advised and unrefined young man was a sport. What I saw that day was a vision; she wore a knee high red dress that should have been saved for a Sunday stroll in Central Park. My thoughts must have been, “god bless her parents for putting this babe on the planet, she is definitely a gift”. As I was busy staring, she smiled in my direction and turned around to reveal a wonderfully round gluteus maxim-us. Quickly I slid into the coffee shop leaving my friends behind. Joey thought I was crazy, he yelled, “Man, that girl is way to fly for you. You better buy a suit”.
When I entered, she was three customers ahead of me. The counter man looked angry with her but I didn’t hear what it was about. She ordered a large coffee, a couple of muffins, and something else that escapes my mind. Although she was quite tall, it was a large order for such a slender woman. I ordered a large cup of brew and realized she was sitting alone.
Joey and Louie were outside watching and laughing. A couple of clowns, I thought. If they had the gonads they would be in here hunting little red riding hood. I walked up to her and asked if I could join her. She didn’t speak and just motioned to the chair next to her. I sat and tried to make small talk. She didn’t say a word so I thought she was playing games with me. Then she smiled and I couldn’t help to think there was something wrong. She had a strong face and a clean look about her. I liked that. I couldn’t help to notice her well defined legs and complimented her, “you really have great legs”. She smiled again and this time she said, “thank you, want to go out sometime”.
Her voice was deep, very deep, I looked outside, and Joey was sitting on the ground laughing wiping the tears from his eyes. Louie was laughing too, bending at the waist, and pointing at me. I was infuriated and embarrassed. I wanted to crawl out of that place with a brown lunch bag over my head, like so many New Orleans Saints fans did during the 1980s. I was afraid that everyone but me knew the woman in the red dress was really a man.
In 1970s New York City, sex was a sport for a nineteen-year-old unrefined and ill-advised young man and I was both ignorant and naïve. I was trying to be a man with the mind of a child.
