"Superheroes"
by Rachel Pinkstone
He emptied his pockets to show
me what he was Worth.
A dirty Quarter from 1978, the year
his mother was born.
Used tissues, slightly sticky, bloodied,
wadded into a ball.
A Rock, thought an arrowhead,
still enveloped in dirt.
A Note to the nurse, a claim
his dosage had changed.
A Spider-Man tattoo, temporary,
but perpetually his hero.
“I like Spider-Man too. Can’t say
I’m a fan of Mary-Jane.”
He eyed me first, amassed his wealth
and laughed. Turned away, then left
the classroom,
Smiling, coughing
hard on the way out.
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