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.
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.