You’re maybe the very last person on earth I expected to see
At a humdrum neighborhood Walmart on a Sunday afternoon.
I don’t know where I expected you to purchase your boxes
Of cereal or your socks or your five dollar movies.
You seem like the kind of person who would buy your movies
For twenty dollars, or eat the organic super-deluxe
Two-calorie multi-vitamin cornflakes from Sunflower.
Maybe the white shelves, the ceilings, the fluorescent lights
Drain and diminish your super powers until you’re only
Just as good as me or anybody else on Krypton.
Did you know your nose is a just a smidgen
Too big for the rest of your face?
I think I’ll say hello.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Usually I write poems about things that happened to me. Or people I know. Or feelings I feel. And this is none of the above. I really couldn't tell you where on earth this came from. But it's cute anyway. I guess it's about realizing that everyone's human, no matter how much of a pedestal you put them on in their head. Everybody goes to Walmart.
And it has a fun superhero metaphor and on-purpose line lengths. I like it. :)
Aaaahhhh! I'm turning into one of those obnoxious tell-a-story-that-never-happened poets!
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