She’s his best writer
And doesn’t want to lose her
Because of what goes on
Between us,
Calling it acrid,
He doesn’t need
To be touched by,
His voice over the telephone
Sounding scared
As if fearful she
Might overhear us
She is Lois Lane
Leaving him to be Clark Kent
While I’m left to play
Lex Luthor
My hands full of kryptonite
That might bring even
Superman to his knees
I need to confess my sins,
He says, meaning to get me fired,
Rage boiling out of him
In his words,
He desperately tries to keep calm
But can’t,
Giving me the option
To do myself in
Or if forced,
To have him
Do it
For me..
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