Waiting For Superman
Gazing at the evening sky,
as though watching a soap opera,
her bosoms partially bare,
she waits for a superman to help her
on her two feet again.
She has danced with strangers
for long, taking glasses of wine
with them; men who only want to know
her in bed, rather than know her name,
where she lives, what she loves,
her history.
Gazing at the stars glowing in silence,
she waits for a special man to save
her from her own destruction.
She waits for superman.
(NB: This piece was published in Leaves of Ink.)
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