Curl my lashes,

brush my hair.

Flush my cheek,

paint my lips,

one last swipe, one last twist

in front of the mirror to make sure my dress falls right,

checking myself out in this softer light.

This is as good as I will ever look.

When I return, six hours late,

my make-up will be bleeding stains,

silken strands a tangled mane,

shoes muddied with stumbling

sexy voice rasp from liquor and laughing.

But this picture sticks in my head,

turning, basking, enjoying my youth

after a beer when my bold mouth speaks,

I think of myself as the confident, worthy woman in the mirror,

regardless if I go to bed looking like a tousled tramp.

People say why bother, it's only a bar,

do you expect to meet your soul mate?

Girl, you don't go far.

But I smile as I sip my drink,

and watch the drunken dancers sing.

I feel beautiful tonight,

and that feeling lasts even after the lights

are all turned out.

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