Requiem for a Radicalized Superman – CJ Huntington

Superman you just threw a car through this gas station wall
And I’m just trying to get a small black coffee.
I don’t even use the milk they make out of almonds anymore because
California doesn’t have enough water for that.

It is barely 9 in the morning.

Superman we need good journalists,
And you’re out here flying around
like that story is going to write itself.

You know I fell once
On the river shore when I was 19,
Right on down a hill and done
cracked my head right on open,
Woke up in an ambulance.

You know I’m still in debt from it?

Superman you’ve got super strength,
Right?
[Yes pardon me if that is presumptuous]
Well there’s a problem at the penthouse, see—
yes, well, see, it’s the money, see—
The money doesn’t belong to them.
It does, in fact, belong to me.

And the oil execs,
At Exon and Shell—
well I mean
Superman, there’s no heaven or hell!
And sure I know how to save the world—
Honest I do—
You can read about it,
in my zine.
Nah for real,
we have free copies at my mutual aid group.

Every hero’s got a code,
and there by the grace of god go you.
But half my state burnt down last year,
and beating up muggers
just ain’t gonna do!
I stitch up the boys’ clothes,
and their hands when they get cut,
in exchange for discount produce
and pirated movies and what not.
[Yeah I also help fix their shitty old Hondas so keep your mouth shut]
Do you need a seamstress,
Superman,
or a nurse,
or a back-alley mechanic?
Maybe just keep you company,
give you some new ideas,
whisper in your ear
some of the things I’ve seen?
Have you ever heard of Bookchin,
Superman?
What about Nester Mahkno?
No—no, Superman, my friend,
don’t worry about it.
Let’s just try to be discreet.
We’ll have plenty of time to discuss
on our way to Wall Street.



I’ve lived in the northwest about six months now and have been working at Powell’s at Burnside since the fall.

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