Yeah, he’s still coming just a little bit late, he got stuck at the laundry mat washing his cape.
She’s waiting for superman.
—Waiting for Superman
I remember you tracing my palm lines like tree rings to measure
all my years, the weeks and months that wove together
to make up “me being alive.” How your body trembled
like a wrong note played by the most broken violin
when I said life was the opposite of where I…