Shake It

Palmed off, a handshake refused

Is your precious palm so easily bruised?

If you shake it shake it shake it baby

Are you scared that I might break it maybe?

I’ll take the blame

If your wrist wilts in shame

But a handshake sends all the girls from the yard

They're like, "we mustn't be scarred!"

So stained by the sweat of the opposite sex

They scrub at their hands fearing some kind of hex

All for a faith buried deep in the sand

As fragile as their ego and, apparently, their hand

So I’d love to be there on the day

When you are offered a hand with a nasty rash, say

Or a wrist bent double from some rare bone trouble

Would that hand have to be shaken

In case offence was taken?

I know I’m about as useful to you as a male manicurist

So, no manic shake of your wrist, no hand-in-hand tryst

But I know a greeting

Where the touch is so fleeting

Where skin hits skin

More akin to a skim...

So in place of the handshake

The lingering touch that you dread

Perhaps you can greet me with a high five instead?