The rubber suit's copyrighted, we can only offer the one from the old TV show. I can't help sighing. I strap on my motorcycle boots but balk at the cowl and leave it on my bed. I wrap the cape tightly about me and trudge down the footpath. Houses and cars loom in the night like ornaments in a material dream.
Television sets glow in dingy rooms.
My feet moving forward one by one, but slowly, with misgiving. My heart rattles in my chest like a loose bone. The urn with her ashes, I picture them floating up in the air. Or suburban, descending insignificant as any other dust motes. My father's face in his coffin.