The speaker announces a small decision: she is going to wear makeup again. What makes the poem interesting is how quickly she says what this return is not. It isn't the messy enthusiasm of her youth, when the eyeliner ended up "cattywumpus," crooked above each brow. And it isn't an attempt to hide her age, to "erase" the "decades on the road." That phrase suggests a long life of travel or experience, and she doesn't want to paint over it.
What she wants is modest: a streak of red on the lip, a touch of taupe on the lid. The tone is calm, a little wry, and quietly confident. The playful word "kerfuffle" shows she can laugh at her younger self without scorn. The mood is relaxed and self-assured, as if she's no longer dressing up for anyone else. Makeup becomes a small pleasure she chooses on her own terms, not a disguise or a fix.