Her eyes were the cat's eyes
gleaming quietly on blacktop highways
between her train wreck soul and
perfect blossom mouth, which she
was careful to wrap around only
the cheapest green glass champagne bottles.
She tripped on her trail of gauzy
faerie wings and hazy cigarette smoke,
enchanted by the mahogany of her
hair and the lilac veins tracing pathways
on narrow arms and thin wrists.
Heavy makeup at her disposal, the click
of the sea foam faux marble powder case
snapping shut in seconds, you'd never
know that it was cracked, just like her.