Sometimes you leave your hands on the table
Mid-gesture, Italianishe-style as if Santa Claus 
Hand-modeled affable intimacy's always the least

 

Pretentious eyes smiling surreptitiously 
Knowing they have the upper glint
I look up sometimes at the hot lights

 

Shining directly in my eyes even though I've been told
They'll blind but nowadays I do it in your honor
Transferring dishonor from my minds eye into 

 

Irides where the damage can't be seen by anyone
Except me holy is the apple
Unpicked from Eden's tree