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.