A portrait of the man in a tie

The man in a Ferragamo tie,
With ironed pleated trousers,
And a jacket to match,
Loafers made of animal hide,
And a shiny metal watch.

A thumb rolling over the Blackberry scroller,
Eyes speed-reading an email,
While he quibbles on his phone,
About two basis-points,
That could cost dollars million & half.

Confident he'll meet his ambition,
He's been successful so far,
He's a man of aspiration,
I'm not quite convinced however,
That he knows what his aspirations are.

The lap of luxury is a gluey lap,
He worries about being able to stay high,
To maintain that abundance,
Although only a few years ago,
He wasn't acquainted with it at all.

A leader; a grabber of opportunities,
He's loved for his charm & suave.
And he lives it up high,
The fruition of five long days,
In a weekend of unfettered verve.

When the suit is off though,
A naked man stands in front of the mirror.
Before he learnt to live life with staidness,
He had knocked the ball that smashed the neighbour's window,
That impetous boy without the tie.