gladhand

I'm so glad I have hands 
I thank Heaven for them! 
Then in afterthought, idly 
scold Hell - that's the plan, 

by airy hand wave of the bird! 
Not enough! Double-barrel! 
Both hands! 

That is when 
I look up,
catch your eyes 

By mistake! 
By surprise! 
I just gave you both birds! 
I thrust both hands so deep 
in my pockets, it hurts. I wish 
right now my hands
could 
just fall through
two cracks in the earth.

Pockets. Close enough!

No, too 
close. Your face
is not appeased by my
policy of fulsome placation. 
Your inner Hitler rages (not literally
Hitler, I just mean you are by all signs
mad, and set on targeted atrocity
- unfair! What if I wasn't Jewish?
Do you prejudge me like a bigot
for a two-handed bird salute?!)

(signs say yes)

You thundercloud loom up 
within you and fume over like
bees with your thoughts in beeline, 
each patiently waiting to sting 
in good time. But before you 
can give me a fair piece 
of mind - 

- I say wait! Can the haste!
I'll explain anything! My idle hands
did devil's work by two birds. But
a bird in each hand beats a foot
in the mouth! As the saying goes,
don't burn your bushes, honeybee! 
Flies create a lot of buzz, but they 
catch so much shit! While honey 
is sweetest between us, wherever 
we bees. 

Her eyes flashed glare warning, but 
my explanations seemed soothing 
music to her. She was a beast of 
good-nature then, it seemed - apart 
from the odd eye flash,  
though.
And she'd had enough - just 
the right amount! - of explanation. 

So I stopped. Let it open edgewise. 

She charged. A sign of weakness, 
and she said: "OK buddy I'll let it 
go one time with a backhand bonus:
two birds, one free pass. But don't 

try to gladhand me." 

Fair enough. We shook on it, her 
with sustained yet well-spent wrath, 
me 
with a mighty quiver of relief. I kept 
my hands in my pockets after that,
for pretty much the rest of my life

and glad