Superman Shorts

I wore a red underwear
over my duck-squatting PJS
the other day. They fit
quite nicely, tight and
snug; clinging on in
look-at-me despair.

Strong, virile, susceptible
below the belt to Kryptonite,
I decided that other day
that my caped goodness would
change the world and me. That
I would be my own salvation.

Today though, Kryptonite is
just a green, legend-infused rock.
My red underwear, a flagging, loose
cloth; evidential of failure. Today
I save not my world, not me, no one. Today
I sit, of this world, un-caped, mortal.