Soiled Supe

Surveying the cityscape
Our protagonist stands Superman
His hands on hips
Eyes squinted slightly
And a mild purse to lips

Feet at an odd angle
Hanging on with microfilaments
That Spiderman would be jealous of
Perched firmly atop the Empire State Building
The site of many a lost love

Perplexed at the amount of criminal activity
That this metropolis seems to produce
To go after the looters in uptown
Or the grifters in the mid?

The hero's eyes look upwards
In hopes that a cosmic threat will appear
That he can fly straight up and stop it
Placing it gently on the ground in Times Square
To much adulation and deafening cheers

But there is nothing
Nothing out of the ordinary for this hero to do
He has no Lex Luthor
Or his real life equivalent
Though he has waited patiently for years

Hero flexes his legs uncomfortably
Within his red and blue tights
His uniform dujor
It's expected
A part of the hero sights

A most un-hero-like cramp
Grips Mister Hero's guts
And he knows he should get down and take care of business
It's not hero stuff
But of the utmost importance nonetheless

In a fit of hero madness
He tries to seek temporary relief
Said relief turns to instead horror
As he realizes that he just sharted in his briefs

So there he stands in embarrassed silence
Looking for danger till the end of his shift
Standing Superman atop the Empire State Building
In shimmering hero tights of red and blue

Soiled