unhygienic restroom practices

Grabbing my wrist-

so narrow, your nephew could wrap his hand around

(and he did, last night, at the cinema hesitant

to remove

his gloves for fear of impropriety and

frostbite)-

was a classic unnecessary gesture.

Calloused and cracked and

crying for a covering of lotion,

which I have and you could have

borrowed,

shackles

made of snow topped

with bloodied cuticles

that I did not bloody

touch.

I fear you do 

not wash your hands upon exiting the restroom,

otherwise my gloved palm

would be in yours,

despite being quite adept at 

crossing the street without assistance (I

have been for quite 

some time) from you.

But, that is disgusting and now

my wrist-

so gently held this evenings' past-

needs at the very least some

Purel, 

which I have and you could have

borrowed. 

I would let you, after your hands were cleansed

of course.