Of Small Acquaintance

I saw him standing
In the cold
The man of small acquaintance
His shirt was pressed
His bow tie straight
Shoes shined to please his conscience
He paced the floor
His eyes cast down
In the golden floodlight glow
Did his feet move
To keep him warm
Or out of his control?
His face was normal
Common place
Yet his eyes were deep and warm
His chin resolute
His steps so sure
No shiver shook his form
My eyes then strayed
And of this thing
I'll never clean my conscience
For when I looked up
He was gone
The man of small acquaintance