Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Denizens of Mischief

There are hundreds of
henchmen, minions, and goons
all out to get you.
In poorly lit rooms
in empty warehouses
they listen inattentively
to super-villains and evil wizards
explaining needlessly complex plans
to entrap you.

So suspect:
dollar bundles of asparagus,
cheap flights to Portland,
by-one-get one free
packs of fancy underwear,
every beautiful girl
fascinated by your art
and topics ranging from soul music
to medieval theology.

Behind every one of these
is a half-dozen denizens of mischief
with bottles of chloroform and pre-soaked rags
ready and waiting with anticipation
in the blink-of-an-eye
you’ll be tied-up with scratching rope
dangled over a vat of a boiling liquid,
acid, you presume,
while a surprisingly eloquent miscreant
regales you with the details of his plan
for the doom of the city, after he rids himself
of your meddlesome menace, of course.

So be careful:
you have more arch-enemies
than anyone as mind-numbingly mundane as yourself
could possibly warrant,
each one focused on the single task
of removing you from this world.
They all have at least
five plans to ensnare you:
they know what you like,
where you live,
and what you do;

you would have been wise
to invest in a secret identity.

1 comment:

Steve said...

Please please please make this a duet with Loti. (Possibly with this: