Although disabled parking
affords less strides to entrance,
the shameless stares at legs
seem to be the pace preferred.
I have in my possession, however,
a force with which to reckon.
Ability to be shorter with left,
and then taller with right switch.
So then this affords glimpses
of all human weaknesses.
More authentic than mail-order
X-ray glasses received as a child.
Like this debonair fellow,
smudged ketchup on the chin,
parched landing-strip on his crown.
He's not more than 40!
The smirking ladies in hall
have no insight to my strength
of scanning undergarment lines.
To them, just an old cripple staring.
The doctors call frequently,
claiming technological improvements.
Apparently fittings from titanium
are being mass produced.
But I love the fresh freedom
of running against the crowd.
I have a super power.
A secret super power.
Silver trophy winner
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