The green lizard stare,
The wet fish handshake,
And the stench of insincerity.
The hallmarks of the urban cad de jour.
And still I persist,
Conversation leaning towards his bank balance.
Until the social cavalry arrives,
Bearing hard stares,
And yer man exits,
Leaving me with the wraith of the bar,
Whispering baritone warnings,
Gasping between gulps of scotch,
And reminding me just how fictive my life has become.