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Michael H. Levin: Poems and Prose
CLARK KENT
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
all-American
without green card
peering in.
Mobius, Vol. 32 No. 1 (Spring 2021)
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