i feel like i missed out on something. i never decided to have a hero when i was younger. i looked up to people because they were taller. but my neck eventually got sore and when my legs got long enough i stopped bothering. as an adult i tried to rectify this by buying a t-shirt that told people i was my own hero. it has a little image of a man on it. with a little red cape. and little, round glasses. i used to consider the shirt the perfect facsimile of me. the shirt lies, though. the cape is fake. the glasses convex. my own hero tried flying this weekend. my own hero, and his cracked tooth. his little red tattered cape and little, round, busted glass glasses. they tell their own story. the crutches and stitches should tell you this about me: i never had a hero when i was younger. the bruises and missing chunk of hair should tell you this about me: i never met bobby kennedy or bukowski. i should tell you this about me: i feel like i missed out on something. but i don't feel bad about it. i didn't fly this time. but i have a t-shirt on that tells me i've got to keep trying.