Remember how
Clark Kent would always
change his clothes in public
in an instant—say,
in a revolving door,
in the back of a yellow
cab stuck in traffic, etc?
Well, I do it differently—
by slowly
and morosely drinking
cup after cup
of black coffee.
I do this all alone
in a small apartment somewhere;
there's no Lois Lane,
no primary colors.
And when I do it, I do it slowly—
it takes several hours.
But eventually (half the time, maybe),
Superman emerges.
I only know
this transformation has taken place
because
he—feels free
enough to leave
the house for a while,
boldly forgetting
that all flight paths are circles,
and he foolishly believes
he's super strong—as if
he could change what is
already the case.
