262/365: Plain Bird
I always wished I could paint on lipstick
red or burgundy
in perfect lines like those ladies in movies or on late night tv,
but I like to eat and kiss and wipe my mouth and pick at my skin
when I think down thoughts to see them through.
Instead, I smear on a medicated grease
that prevents cold sores and cracking,
sniff in the comforting whiff of old man liniment,
and I imagine that someone sees the glamour in the shine,
that my swagger is convincing camouflage for a plain bird.