Lacquer clogs my early morning mouth.
Spitting curses and acetates, I watch
as her barely-there bottom
perches on Kohl-smudged porcelain,
spidery legs dangling from the
Eye-liner daggers drawn,
parrying tongues and tangling elbows
we jostle for space and giggles,
jousting in a lotion-cluttered arena,
hairspray mace and mascara lances –
fighting for glass.