I remember when you held up the
camera to your face and click,
snapped a picture of me, thinking
I was oblivious to hearing the click.
I saw a smile tug at the corners of
your lips as your eyes glimmered
at the picture.
Then you leaned against the corner
of the booth and stirred the spoon
in the coffee, watching your thoughts
swirl with the cream.
It is these moments where your
cerebellum reminds you that
you are not a transparent body
who is marked by texture
—you don't have any incredulous
senses nor superpowers.
You just have a friend.
And that's your superhero.
But just when you make a friend,
the villain escapes.
