Gesticulating guards no thought,
Betraying attitudes for naught.
He thinks it’s keen
And goes unseen,
But no one misses each cheap shot.
He pastes a grin upon his mug
And hides his hands with just a shrug.
The rest of us
Perceive the cuss.
Despite the act, he’s just a thug.
He may as well broadcast his bile
And spew his steam with language vile.
For none can hide
What lies inside,
If gestures double-cross pure guile.
c2015 by Linda Ann
Nickerson
Image/s:
Vintage/public domain artwork
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