Fuzzy upper lips, lower face – your first imperfection
Eyes too deep in your face – too big – like blue old chipped china dinner plates
Lost your luster when the feast was done
When forks were laid to rest on spot-stained napkins
And all history was swallowed,
Leaving behind not one greasy trace
But the bloated bursting bellies of jolly old men
Our Garden of Eden erased,
But for that blemish of black sin on my sleeve
Don’t leave