It Clicked Occasionally

It Clicked Occasionally

Superman's mom stitched together some nice blue pants
for him, and ironed on a red 's' on his shirt.  I watched
through my Cat Woman eyes, as Superman walked
awkwardly from group of superheroes, super villains,
Chewbacca poked a hand up his mask, and scratched
his nose.  A unicorn looked mystical under the blinking
fluorescent lights as if she was out of place and she needed
to be near a waterfall- not next to a fat Batman, walking
with his chest stuck out as if he had a wedgie from
his tight pants.  I walk over to the fruit punch, and drink
because it replaces the silence and the space
between moments, when there's nothing left to do,
like a gulp to complete time.  A witch puts her
hat down on table, and I by mistake dump some red
punch on her hat.  She grabs her hat, and laughs
and says it's ok, it blends in.  I look up, at all the odd shapes
of butts and busts and arms dangling, and jagged edges of
intents to put together customs for these awkward moments
that never clicked- only clicked inside our throats
when we swallowed a liquid and our voices threw up words.