IRON MAN’S INTERVENTION, STARRING THE AVENGERS
As if I can’t have a drink
or two in the morning,
before risking my life
for people who don’t
know my name.
As if I can’t enjoy
a bottle of Chianti
and a smooth woman
when I’m not disarming
warheads in mid-flight
over the Atlantic.
As if the bottle of Johnnie
Walker you found, half-
empty, in my briefcase
implies I’m not capable
of defending New York
from shape-shifting, green
men from another world.
A man at Starbucks shoved
me during morning rush.
I stumbled over chairs,
fell. With my suit—
my marvelous iron prison—
I could pop his head with a flick
of one finger. But without it,
I’m just a man lost in the city.
Meanwhile you walk
down streets with a cowl
or cape the only difference
and you’re transformed—
the man underneath as real
as the one slamming villains
into concrete. You think
I need a drink to get in
the suit. But you’re wrong.
I need it to get out.
Bant.
Awesome.