Tuesday, October 16, 2018


Remember how
Clark Kent would always
change his clothes instantly
and publicly—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 hot black coffee.

I do this all alone
in a skinny strange apartment somewhere;
there no Lois Lane,
no primary colors.

And when I do it, I go slowly;
it takes me several hours.
But eventually (and I mean,
like 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 walks are circles;

he also believes
he's super strong, as if
he could conceivably change—what is
already the case.

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