She uses eyeliner to coat the
mistakes and wrinkles on her heavy lids.
Smelling of cheap wine and corn chips,
she roams the streets braless,
searching.
But braless works for her,
and so do eyeliner and corn chips.
And under the yellow pitcher of light
from the street lamps,
she is illuminated.
Her wrinkles dissolve like sugar in tea.
Snarled, piled hair becomes a frosted up-do.
Eyelashes long and curled.
A beauty mark on her left cheek.