DANGER CAPE
Danger Cape is my superhero
power.
No, it doesn’t fly;
that would be impossible.
But when there’s danger nearby
I flap it out
and clamber under
The Dome of Protection,
like hiding in an octopus,
metachrosic and virtually
invisible to predators,
safe,
where I read adventurous tales
of princes and dragons
in secret to a squatting puppy
that savors every syllable
or have friends over
for hoity toity tea parties
or light a fire
cook hot dogs on a stick
and sneak s’mores
while telling ghost stories
with flashlights under our chins
or I’m tucked in the rocking hold
of a tall-masted ship
undiscovered by sailors
until we’re halfway to paradise
or I’m weightless in space
strapped in the command module
alone as any man ever
on the far side of the moon
focused on mission integrity
while my teammates
frolic and golf
eat green cheese
and say famous shit
or I clap my cowboy boot heels
on the dusty floorboards
of a spaghetti western saloon
as I lurch toward the bar
after losing at poker
downing one bourbon
too many and impulsively
wave my drunken gun
in the panicky air
like the adults
who drove me here
to begin with.