When I read about quasars
We walk these Andalusian streets
We are masters of the slow burn
I’ve heard it said that brilliant children
What if we lived
As if we believed
Our shared experiences
Are stronger than our differences
Consequently they are fine, happy even,
No one writes poetry
About Iron Man
Or Spider-man or even Wonder Woman
Like somewhere along the way
All of the artist held a forum to
I pocket my maculinity like a charm
The road has a stolid memory
The world is a lonely place