I forgive the good wine
That has stained your mouth and cheeks red
While we laughed and smoked and broke bread
In the warmth and light and frenzy
Of the circle of your friends.
From across your coffee table's
Foreign books and crocheted coasters
You were staring, said my eyes glowed
And because you weren't born here
And you dropped to basso buffoI believed you really meant it.
Now it's clear I was unable
To read properly your signals
(Though I boast of knowing well
The signs and looks
And hints of interest)
--I will blame this on the drinks
And not a lack of intuition.