I remember when you held up the

camera to your face and click,

snapped a picture of me, thinking

I was oblivious to hearing the click.

I saw a smile tug at the corners of

your lips as your eyes glimmered

at the picture.

Then you leaned against the corner

of the booth and stirred the spoon

in the coffee, watching your thoughts

swirl with the cream.

It is these moments where your

cerebellum reminds you that

you are not a transparent body

who is marked by texture

—you don't have any incredulous

senses nor superpowers.

You just have a friend.

And that's your superhero.

But just when you make a friend,

the villain escapes.