He pulled at the drawstring on his stretch pants,
Slid his feet into comfortable slippers,
Adjusted his shirt over his expanding waistline,
And attached his cape to his shoulders with Velcro.
Seems like only a minute ago he was
Jumping out of telephone booths,
Wearing tights that stretched over bulging muscles,
Leaping into the air to fight crime and save the world.
Now he worked at Comics & More on Hawthorne Avenue,
Selling vintage comic books and other memorabilia.
The owner thought the costume would attract business.
He thought he looked like an idiot.
Lois had died eight years ago.
Clark Jr. only visited at Christmas.
He wanted to buy a condo in Florida,
But Lois’ life insurance didn’t quite cover it.
He remembered when it all began to fall apart.
People stopped believing in super heroes,
And turned to politicians to save them.
He often wondered how that was working for them.
But each day at the store,
As he haggled with 10-yr old hustlers,
He often dreamed of a big comeback,
Or an overdose of kryptonite to end it all.
After work he drove to his RV
Parked in the Daily Planet parking lot.
After dinner he settled on the couch to watch TV.
His eyes slowly closed as he drifted off to sleep.
His last thoughts were of leaping tall buildings,
In a single bound, of course
Moving faster than a locomotive
And knowing superheroes had their place…