I want food and glare at the
safety window in the door.
I pause before I rap.
I know that if I rap I’ll be hungry; my guts
will boil but someone will bring me food.
But if I rap my guts will boil and I might be
I wonder if it’s worth the risk.
The door is locked and I have 4 points—
1 for each arm and 1 for each leg
I scratch my thigh as I
a mile wide
and land quietly in a bin of wrist
Superman swoops me up and
flies me away
we are weightless….
He says “You can have the fortress
of solitude. Everything is yours.”
I scratch my thigh and yawn.
RG (c) 2016