Fatigue

The sky overhead is red with black smoke curling

Through it like a mamba on the move cross the water

I snatch another pair of people plummeting from 

Their fifth story apartment where they bought Chinese

And tipped their delivery driver fifty-three cents on a

Seventy-six dollar order, and I just can’t stop the 

Thought of letting them fall to the ground like a 

Box of overcooked beef lo mein and letting someone

Else clean their messes up for once. 

I don’t, of course, I move on to the next victim,

A man who hasn’t bathed in weeks, trapped under

A collapsing shelf of thousand-dollar figurines from

A bunch of children’s T.V. shows, who hasn’t spoken

To another human being in months except to tell 

The anonymous girls of his favorite fandom that the show

Isn’t made just for them, and they wouldn’t get the nuance, 

And they just are trying to take everything away from

People like him. And I wonder how many times his chubby

Ass would skip across the asphalt if I threw him.

I place him down gently, happy to put distance between us

And rocket up to the roof where a child is crying, her hands

Clenched around a slightly smoking stuffed armadillo.

When she sees me, she backs away from the roof, fear

Swelling in her eyes and I suddenly realize I’m covered

In ash and debris and possibly a little bit of somebody else’s

Blood, and I crouch to appear smaller and extend my hand.

“It’s alright, little one. I’m a superhero. I’m here to save you.” 

Whether she understands or not, she decides that anywhere

Is better than a burning rooftop, which is not true but I don’t

Have the heart to explain that to her just yet, and I carry her

To the ground. A chorus of “Thank you”s and “My Hero”s

Fall on ears that are just tired, so tired of protecting people

From their greatest enemy, which has always been themselves.

I smile, I wave. I do the catchphrase (if you don’t know it,

I’m gonna consider it the best thing that’s happened to me

All damn day) and zoom away, more than happy to let the

Firefighters and police finish the rest of it. I zip back to my

Secret lair, which is a shitty apartment on the East side, 

Crack open a drink, and sit in my recliner. And then…

The signal. The same stupid signal. The same stupid

Signal of the sigil on my stupid uniform. It’s a waste

Of time, a waste of breath, they’ll just find themselves

In harm’s way again tomorrow. But what else am I

Going to do? Ignore the screams that I can hear even

From this distance. I flip off my mirror, quickly splash

The soot and debris off my face and fly off. Again.