To Be

I turned the corner quickly,

But I don’t think I fooled the target.

I can’t be sure. I might not be shadowing anyone,

Although the feeling persists.

He may be short, tall, black, white,

Fat, thin, bald, or long haired. 

I believe he might be carrying a violin case,

With a machine gun inside.

Of course he might be a she, in a brilliant disguise.

I can not forget that the woman I am following

Might just be an alien, from Mexico or Mars,

Looking to modify all three handed homo-sapiens.

I stumbled upon the villain when shopping.

He, she, it spent much time with a sales person,

Claiming to be interested in buying boots,

The kind that only certain people wear.

I feel certain that the plot involves Israelis.

They could be helping my cause, whatever that is,

Or in cahoots with the opposition.

Clever devils.

Ah, here’s my bus.

I’ll make careful notes 

And pick up his, her, its trail tomorrow,

Unless I remain uncertain that I am following anyone.