His eyes steel like loaded pistols,
cocked and ready to mark a target.
She steps into the light.
He aims. She bolts.
She slips through a door
and draws her first weapon.
'I feel lucky.'; she whispers.
She fires red lipstick across her open mouth,
pops the tube back into her holster purse,
and exits through the bathroom door.
Swaying toward the bar room, both barrels pointed,
she is already planning the stuff and mount.