Christopher Reeve as Superman

the total eclipse,

as i walked the sidewalks near Central Park with a friend

discussing the virtues of obsession,

was a Tea Party surprise.

it rushed towards us like an angry earthquake

formed in six dimensions,

like a blizzard of Lou Reed New York craziness,

blasting our faces,

our small faces,

like a bold print headline in jazzy neon colors

broadcast live from a giant billboard

mounted on one wall of a 5th Avenue skyscraper.

masked and unmasked goblins were scurrying on and off

the adjacent streets, dodging taxis and ignoring traffic lights,

parading smartly by radiation detectors and the steely eye of 

security cameras.

they went searching for fading high school memories of

acne and heartache,

of fall football games and loose sweaters filled with varsity hands.

and the total eclipse faded as quickly as it appeared,

which was disappointing.

one small girl passed us dressed as a witch,

seemingly channeling Alice in Wonderland,

while holding aloft a green caterpillar smoking from a hookah.

she went snickering as though she was in La La Land, although

she was barely at 42nd street.

i stopped my friend when he began to dabble with finger paints,

pushing passing goblins as he did so,

smearing his private paints onto their private parts.

it was all for fun, he said, when i asked

"What the hell are you doing that for?"

and to get him away from the crowds, i suggested a movie,

maybe with hot buttered pop corn and a cold coke.

we had to have coke!

especially to see Christopher Reeve as Superman, i thought.

since Chris was a friend of mine from the early days of the Actor's Studio,

i enthusiastically said "Let's see Superman!"

but my friend said Superman was dead, and in a way he was right.

Chris had a terrible fall off a jumping horse and became paralyzed;

he often publicly stated that he'd walk unaided again some day,

maybe to join in finger painting on city streets or to act on television

or in another movie where he'd wear a red cape and fly faster than a 

speeding bullet, without special effects.

well, sadly that won't happen, and i never got to see the movie that day, either,

because my friend pulled me into a book store where a small 

gathering was taking place for the hearing impaired.

and everybody was dabbling with finger paints.