After Superman fucks up

I called Moskowitz to talk about a book.

he answered the phone like he was dropping a
weight to the floor--heavy and belligerent,
"Moskowitz. What do you want?" or at least
that's how it should have been,

fuck you, leave me alone, stop sucking all the
oxygen from the air--let me breath!

he's a little disappointed with the chase to leave
an undesired legacy on the So Cal landscape; a change
to the human condition or something like that,

he wants to change the world, bend it to the will of
doing good and right--talk his kids into living sanely
before the rising tide of social anomie

his dreams are noble, maybe arrogant, but he
watches from a distance and drops bombs on the
unsuspecting innocents gathered to catch a
California sunset--then silently walks away like Clark Kent
after Superman fucks up.

J. Masuda © 2005

art
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