Signed, Lois Lane
Through walls of words, I see you
I collect tales of the steel will
that keeps the trains running
through the claws of a blizzard
and in private, I dance
with the imperfections
of the lesser known alter ego
you are part strength, part sleep
part Kryptonian and
part peanut butter addiction,
part caped crusader
in a traffic of conquest and
part blue-and-red blur of laughter
flying your way home
part morning rock star
behind the shower curtain
and part weekend hero
waiting for your muddied costume
to come out of the washer
so you can put it on again
and save the world come Monday
part bullet slicing through
roads at sub-zero temperatures
and part muscles bruised by wind
that need mending over a night
of humming silence and
some lemongrass scented oil
and nobody else sees
the metropolis and its sky
from this angle
but us.
***
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