man of steal

“Just the facts, Ms. Lane,” And he was again a blue wall of silence Guns poking out of his sleeves And holster. She wiped paint from her eyes. “Well, the psycho wore glasses, officer. Tall, white, handsome - I would’ve said a newscaster, but too tan. I would’ve said a golf-pro, but too many muscles. I would’ve said a lunk, but he set his lips like a scholar. I would’ve said a librarian, but he glared. I would’ve said a soldier, but his eyes were too wild. I would’ve said a revolutionary, But I don’t think he had anything to say. I would’ve said a police officer, But then he’d be you, Officer Kent.” Officer Kent’s learned lips Spread across his sun-darkened face As he moved his powerful, taut arm up To scratch his perfect straight nose where glasses did not sit. “Ms. Lane, I don’t think You have to worry about the police Dipping a raccoon in whitewash and swinging it around your house and we sure don’t have the time to repaper your powder room with copies of the Internationale. Besides, I don’t wear glasses.” She sighed. He was right, glasses Were an inescapable blemish An unsightly mark That immediately confirmed one’s identity. “I suppose you’re right.” Officer Kent smiled. “I’ll stick around tonight, ma’am, to give you a little peace of mind. There’s no telling whose out and about these days.” Lois smiled. “My hero. You know, I’ve got the funniest feeling That something is wrong. There’s too many yahoos, Bank robbers, low burglars, human cats, Face-painted villains, reds, and evil-geniuses around. I can’t help but think That things shouldn’t be so rowdy, So loud, so exciting. Listen to me Prattling on. Thank you, officer. Goodbye, now.” She closed the door. This superman, Satisfied that he was alone Turned to his cruiser. He opened his trunk And pushed the dead, dripping raccoon Onto the stack of papers in French, Leaving a white smear. He pressed a hidden panel In the wheel well of his trunk took out his glasses, and made for the driver’s side door. He unbuttoned his shirt with each step, dragged the blue curtains away and on stage beneath his glittery grin was tattooed the anarchy A