The Three-Peak Fold

Here he comes, the man himself,
a perfectly folded handkerchief
in the breast pocket of his black 
million dollar suit. And immediately
pffft, no more. Disappeared 
around the corner,
he and the clothes he wore with him.

I wonder about the handkerchief,
and what happens after he's used it.
Of course, dabbing dry a tear or
patting mist from a mirror, or
wiping lipstick from his cheek or
the spittle of a little love-spat,
I understand all that, but

what about an ordinary sneeze, 
an achoo or two. Obvious 
occasion for a handkerchief but
he'll have to hide the spot of snot 
behind one of the triangles 
of the classic three-peak fold.
All this takes time. Not to mention

pyromanic coughing fits
the phlegm-scattering kind, 
shirtfronts, hands, sleeves, and suppose
He has a nosebleed. He
vomits on a banquet table. He's
stranded in a booth seeing
no toilet paper.  Poor guy.  
And then the hard part,
the folding it back as it was. He

lays it flat
with a point pointing up, 
a diamond. 

folds 
the bottom corner up
to meet the top corner.

folds the side points in, 
just past the center, 
aligning them 

with the folded edge, 
making
90 degree angles

on each side.
And then returns it 
to his breast pocket 

with the folds facing in.
It can't be easy.