You were Superman
forty-five inches of adolescent steel
caped in cotton blend
arms extended in flight
you soared a metropolis
of crushed velveteen davenports
worn slick, filling station china
the hand painted bust of Elvis.
Your x-ray vision penetrated
half-empty tallboys mounting
the window sills
bent broken glass into prisms.
Able to leap unspoken boundaries
you grinned through dinners of syrup bread
macaroni and cheese splashed with gin
You charmed drunks for cash –
back flips earned a quarter, cartwheels a dime
aerials always brought a buck.
You stuffed pockets emptied
for a half gallon of milk
day old bread and bacon fat.
More powerful than a locomotive
you took all the blows
left hooks scribbling your body in s’s
You took it for the both of us
for truth, for justice, for bacon fat.
Till that night, going for a twenty
you leapt from the roof,
broke your heels, the bones patched
with kryponite.
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s …
you never could blend in
like you were from some other planet
some other dimension.
Faster than a speeding bullet
you’re still running
chasing your own vanishing point.
Writing 