Not Misled

His handshake lied.
It was warm and firm
And held me
A second too long.

I sought his eyes
To determine the veracity
The integrity of his soul.
But his eyes refused contact.
They darted to my ring
To the ashtray on his table
And the knap of the carpet.

He lightened his grip
To withdraw into some unseen cavern
And sever contact.

I did not allow this.
I kept my grip firm
Strong
Until his eyes locked mine.

I did not smile.
My countenance made a statement.
It said
I know who you are.
I am not misled.

I know you, sir.