XXXIX. Superman

"I don't believe in Superman,"
She told me, leaning on my armrest.

The stereo was turned low,
The low hum of mumbling static,
The sort of sound you imagine
A trembling cape makes
****Trailing through the clouds.

"Well, what about me," I
Smile and turn and wink.

Her hair was losing its fight
Against itself, against its will,
To stay straight, like an hour ago.
When she had it in the iron,
****Before the curl took over,
********Spiraling down her face.

"You don't believe in Superman, either."
Leaning away, reaching for the stereo.