Poem: Mischief

I woke one morning to find

that my body had disappeared. I was still

alive and well, but I couldn’t

see myself at all. Oh, what fun

I could have! I told myself.

Time for some mischief!


My first goal that day

involved scaring the shit out my wife! She

screeched and clung to the

shower wall as the curtain

moved with no one touching it.

My mischief had begun!


My next two victims were

the gardener and the mailman. I chased

poor Pedro with his own rake

and dumped the entire sack of

mail over Ed’s franticly shaking head.

More mischief! I exclaimed.


Took a jog to the corner store

and threw product off the shelves to scare

two little boys into pissing themselves.

Got in the checkout line and goosed

a pretty lady who slapped the guy behind her.

Mischief is so liberating!


I next followed a cop

tapping his shoulder every few minutes.

After looking back one too many times,

he drew his pistol on an old lady. She

gasped and choked and fell over, dead.

My mischief was getting dangerous.


After pushing two hoodlums

together and causing them to beat each other

senseless, I realized my mischief was

becoming less like me and more

like an evil demon at play.

My mischief must stop!


But I was compelled to

continue, causing more and more harm.

More people hurt, more of a rush from

hurting others just for fun. Schadenfreude

was taking over. I couldn’t stop.

Mischief had won me over!


As the bodies and cars

began piling up behind me, a mob

of people followed the carnage until

I was cornered on the 76th Street Bridge.

It was there my body reappeared,

Mischief now had a face!


The yelling and screaming of

all those I inconvenienced and hurt,

those whose friends I killed just

to get my invisible kicks, all

massed around me, demanding justice.

Mischief must be punished!


I huddled in fear against

the metal railing, keeping me from the sea

My fun had ended, the time to pay had

arrived. I couldn’t face my executioners

with a brave but sorrowful heart.

Mischief must go to the sea!


As I fell from the

76th Street Bridge, I heard disappointed

yelling and gasping from the mob.

I robbed them of their judgment

stroke, they watched in bittersweet horror

as Mischief was swallowed by the sea.