Do What You Gotta Do And Stay

It Is Always So Simple, And So Complicating, To Accept An Apology.

Bina, Thank You. Bina, Listen, This Guy. His Name Wasn't Lasker. This Guy-' She Puts A Hand To His Mouth. She Has Not Touched Him In Three Years. It Probably Would Be Too Much To Say That He Feels The Darkness Lift At The Touch Of Her Fingertips Against His Lips. But It Shivers, And Light Bleeds In Among The Cracks.

One Knew, Of Course, That It Was Not The Red Cape Any More Than It Was The Boots, The Tights, The Trunks, Or The Trademark "s" That Gave Superman The Ability To Fly. That Ability Derived From The Effects Of The Rays Of Our Yellow Sun On Superman's Alien Anatomy, Which Had Evolved Under The Red Sun Of Krypton. And Yet You Had Only To Tie A Towel Around Your Shoulders To Feel The Strange Vibratory Pulse Of Flight Stirring In The Red Sun Of Your Heart.

Childhood, At Its Best, Is A Perpetual Adventure, In The Truest Sense Of That Overtaxed Word: A Setting Forth Into Trackless Lands That Might Have Come To Existence The Instant Before You First Laid Eyes On Them.

So It Was Scary, But That's How It Goes. To My Great Delight, I Discovered That It Did All Belong.