Mr. Nobody

moves deftly

as a Burmese cat

to the sound

of white noise.

A door left ajar

kicks open,

opportunity knocks.

Scorpions frown,

angels moan.

Platitudinous

politicians

plunge into wars

nobody wants.

Wearing a Shriner’s

red fez won’t help

one bit.

Calamity happens,

in the wrong place

at the right time.

A twinge in the groin,

and melanoma

goes right to the brain.

Study the meaning

of meaning.

Why stroke out

before your time?

Elders play bingo

as if they’re never

going to die.

Mr. Nobody,

always there,

laughs to himself.

What does he

want from me?