Jul 14, 2009

Double Abecedarian: My Life as a Double Agent

Written by Steve Mueske

Read by Kimberly Quiogue Andrews

— for Nathan McClain

Another day in the cloak and dagger biz,
blue-eyed contacts one day, brown, then gray.
Carbon fiber pen, explosive watch and six
documents to plant in a diplomat’s bungalow.
Eating lamb tournedos at a cafe in Kiev,
Falafal, in a brown bag, the color of ecru.
Grand views over trees hanging their russet
heads near the Aisne or Tagus rivers.
I’m a specialist of disguise, slick, a master
juggling times, roles. Off-the-chart IQ.
Keen-eyed kite above the canyon’s lip,
lofted on a column of air, watchful, so
meticulously prepared. I know things men
never admit, even to themselves, the golem
opening from outstretched palms. Dull
promises of green valleys beyond, a quick,
quiet death — not for me. I’m a late night DJ
rocking the radio waves, a warrior’s hari-kari
shriek on a cold night. Bodies lie in a swath
that streaks from Syracuse to Syria. A gig
under two managers, that’s all it is. A stiff
violation of national security? They’ll have
weeks of old trails and counter-trails: I lead
x amount of lives, each dusted with talc.
You hunt for The Snake while we confab:
zeroes and ones I’ve shaped into a cobra.

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