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Round horn-rims and recessive pose

are just as much disguises

as the bright caped spandex suit,

the blinding speed, the

public feats of strength.

Lone now, lone always:

dropped from a far exploded planet

pretending to be human

sentenced to spins

through random phone booths

intergalactic migrant

ever on guard


without green card

peering in.

Mobius, Vol. 32 No. 1 (Spring 2021)

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