Indian Ink Poem by Abraham de la Torre

It was a drop
in Dave Gibbon's bucket
like the original light
in Alan Moore's head

I suppose one can surmise
one scintillating smiley
is as good a hint as any
to a self-fulfilling surprise

There is angst in the aversion
to super heroes' mission
inasmuch as of late
watchmen, too, have their mandate

The inkwell
is awesomely aswell
the freer to shoot cool kilometric air
the faster to muffle where telephones dare

How do I like you shall I count the smiles
retrace the period from the files
and then when yellow turns to yawn
I shall like you direr until after dawn.