Melissa McCarthy Tease

A recount of QUOTH

I smear the blue into my eyelids,

Dark at first, light on top,

She sings in the background,

Pink and red, Hollywood and wine.

I push up to the brow,

Trying to keep it even and smooth,

Jagged and misshapen,

A mishap,

Before I grab for a pencil,

And mark for a dot,

Reaching for the purple, intended for blush,

But cascades to a whirlwind,

Covering my face in pinks and blues and reds,

Blending and blending.

I give up, apply mascara,

And on we go rustling into the night.

I hoist up my breasts,

Preventing spillage,

Or slippage to keep the illusion,

But I’m fooling nobody.

This time I haven’t even donned my infamous

wig,

Mistaken for Weird Al or somehow Cher,

Instead my wiry half-orange hair is supposed to

be grey,

But with an hour I couldn’t,

And we were already late.

We enter an oddity,

A woman in her glory and an attempt at drag,

Mermaids in theory.

With hands dusted in glitter,

I pour a drink,

Cackling maniacally and in character

I steal the words from the room,

Heckling when necessary.

And I let the night happen.

Meow meow, meow meow.

Three fags to a cubicle,

But no smoking.

The burning of a sinus is allowed

By a knowing nod

In the absence of a yellow jacket,

We pile out and check ourselves in the mirror,

Waiting for it to kick in and be once again

engulfed in the lights.

My straight friend’s straighter boyfriend

Beckons me to the pole,

I see my legs slender and adorned with pleasers,

A stripper divine, or perhaps a gogo’s first go,

Or perhaps even it’s bear night,

(What a sight!)

Madonna, then Charli, then ABBA, then she,

We continue on until 3,

Topping up and stopping to smoke,

Until we walk home,

And I doubt that I’ll sleep.