The Price of Admission

Imagine if she knew it's me
beneath this helmet,
within this cape
- this brawn, these boots -
able to outrun that train
or soar where only rockets fly
or bend this beam of steel round
or concentrate upon a sound
sixty city blocks away.
Or maybe if she spoke my name,
and I admitted to this fame:
would she think I played a game?
Could we ever be the same?

The Price of Admission © Copyright 2021, Robert J. Tiess.

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Submitted: March 24, 2019