Ennead

I fancy myself an assassin on a mission,

Out to eradicate a corrupt politician.

Or a foreign agent toying with nuclear fission,

Who gets caught and now must face extradition.

Maybe a famed actress on an audition,

Playing the part of a psychotic physician.

I’m interested in forensics and decomposition,

But yuck as a cadaver-cutting mortician.

How about a mechanic repairing the transmission,

In a dark green, four-wheel-drive Ford Expedition?

It must be rewarding to be a physician,

Traveling the world to cure malnutrition.

I am rather smart, I could be a statistician,

But that sounds just as boring as a mathematician.

A caped, hat-and-rabbit, upstart magician,

As the opening act for a famous musician.

But alas, it’s just me, a limited edition

Relentlessly pursuing my literary ambition.