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There is a story behind this one. I can't remember the whole thread on her discussion group, but my cousin (with her tongue in her cheek) asked for a poem about the sexuality of Superman, and I wrote this to tease her. If I were a geek girl, I would have called this "Red Kryptonite" or something, but I'm not one of my cousin's geek friends and I'm not going to call it that. My point is not that I like bad boys, per se, but that I like men who are at least a little bit complicated. I always thought Superman was a little too nice for my tastes. That's all.
Man of Steel
I’ve never wanted Superman,
neither dressed as Clark
in his button-down suit,
nor flying through the air
in skin-tight spandex;
he makes me feel dirty,
what with all his moral
and physical perfection.
To make me desire
his steely manliness,
I have to picture him drunk;
I have to see him in Vegas
picking up cars to impress
and pick up sleazy woman;
I have to imagine him
cleaning up in a bar fight
and mopping the floor with
hapless yahoos that thought
a guy dressed like that
would be an easy mark;
I have to see him struggling
with the temptation
for brutal world domination
because he knows he could pull it off
and no one could stop him.
I want his Kryptonite
to be his humanity,
I want the boy scout in the red cape
to have baser instincts to give in to –
then and only then
would I want to slip into a phone booth
to help him out of that gray suit
and the red tights underneath it.
- Nina E. Erickson
November 14, 2006
(c) 2007
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Date: 2007-07-29 04:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-29 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-30 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-30 03:30 pm (UTC)And talking about hotties made me use my 'hot' picture of Brendon from Panic! at the Disco.
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Date: 2007-07-30 03:38 pm (UTC)