Superhero
Published in Downtown Brooklyn, Number 16

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Superhero

(for he who never made it past the bed frame)

I've heard that we can fly

if we try hard enough.

Superman taught me that as a child,

but I never found a cape that looked

right on me.  They all wrapped

around me like maternity cloaks,

making me seem too female to fly. 

 

Years later, I met a guy

who broke his arm growing up

when he tried to fly off his bed,

like Wonder Woman.

I never thanked him appropriately

for his bending of the genders

that children don't always understand. 

I just laughed

because he's very tall

and very strong

and I don't know how he would look in

Wonder Womans tights with the chest

pushed out for the tits.

(Would he stuff like a teenage girl

                         to try to strengthen the effect?)

 

I ask myself, was his spirit broken

when he realized

that he couldn't really float

over everyone else,

gliding like a plane on a clear day? 

Did he try to be Batman instead,

a normal man with exceptional tools

of the trade and a utility belt with

the right to kick the bad guy's ass

in the split of a second,

in the space of a super-villain insult?