The supreme being weaves her way

In and out of table settings

Like a minaiture Q.E.2

Gliding past mere mortal patrons

With nothing much to say

Sliding in and out of headlines

Stuck in media mode

” You waiting to be served”? She smiles

Averts her eyes

And prepares to strike a pose

Supremely she glances through me

The lip gloss quivers

Lost in attitude

Long fingers trail through golden hair

Trapped in a plastic dream

Reeling from her muted tones

I turn on the charm

Challenge her face to face

” You talking to me?” I boldly venture

Oh so ready for the kill.

Slowly she looks me up and down

All geared up for war

Like a warrior princess

“Yeaugh” she  duly spews forth

In supreme being speak.