Your Poem for Tuesday

Maybe Dats Your Pwoblem Too by James W. Hall All my pwoblems who knows, maybe evwybody's pwoblems is due to da fact, due to da awful twuth dat I am SPIDERMAN. I know.  I know.  All da dumb jokes: No flies on you, ha ha, and da ones about what do I do wit all doze extwa legs in bed.  Well, dat's funny yeah. But you twy being SPIDERMAN for a month or two.  Go ahead. You get doze cwazy calls fwom da Gubbener askin you to twap some booglar who's only twying to wip off color T.V. sets. Now, what do I cawre about T.V. sets? But I pull on da suit, da stinkin suit, wit da sucker cups on da fingers, and get my wopes and wittle bundle of equipment and den I go flying like cwazy acwoss da town fwom woof top to woof top. Till der he is.  Some poor dumb color T.V. slob and I fall on him and we westle a widdle until I get him all woped.  So big deal. You tink when you SPIDERMAN der's sometin big going to happen to you. Well, I tell you what.  It don't happen dat way. Nuttin happens.  Gubbener calls, I go. Bwing him to powice, Gubbener calls again, like dat over and over. I tink I twy sometin diffunt.  I tink I twy sometin excitin like wacing cawrs.  Sometin to make my heart beat at a difwent wate. But den you just can't quit being sometin like SPIDERMAN. You SPIDERMAN for life.  Fowever.  I can't even buin my suit.  It won't buin.  It's fwame wesistent. So maybe dat's youwr pwoblem too, who knows. Maybe dat's da whole pwoblem wif evwytin. Nobody can buin der suits, dey all fwame wesistent. Who knows?

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