Superman Bound Poem by robert dickerson

It seems like a dream now-
my life above ground
flyin' around, gettin' stuff done
doin' lotsa' good
kickin' criminal butt
makin' the babes all swoon
then snatching back my smile;
plunging into the sun
to get some rest
in it's tumbling holocaust.

Watchin' the city sleep
By night, the dumb, unblinking
gargoyles my best pals.
Watchin' the cars, the
planes in the air,
the boats in the Sound;
head in the clouds
me thinkin' and thinkin'
how in the heck I got
this passion for good.

Livin' my daily, foolish lie-
my life in disguise. But now
I'm flat out, a broken toy, the World
rolled to rest on my chest:
and I must taste the
only satisfactory
pity of the city
I just made safe and just.
Thugs breathe a sigh of relief
and bookies take bets on my life.

Did I doubt myself?
Did I doubt my vocation
or do one selfish deed?
I ask myself
over and over again
as I stare down at my toes
yellow, cold and numb
and watch the flies
orbit the fan
in hopeless admiration.