When I was in grammar school,
I was a Spider-Man freak,
collecting comics books
like they were going out of style.
They may, at that time,
at that particular late seventies’ time,
have been.

The comic store I frequented had a Fair quality copy
of Amazing Spider-Man number ten,
where he meets the Big Man
and subsequently defeats him.
It was the earliest issue of Spider-Man

I had seen, and I had to have it.

Of course, I didn’t have the kind of cash to get something like that
so I needed to beg my parents for a loan for such a thing.
I called Dad at work, and he said he would front the twenty bucks

(a steal!)

if I would go the couple of blocks to get it from him.

I dashed out the house to go on over to Ninety Seventh Street
to collect my loan so I could then pick up the issue.

On Ninety Seventh, I was excitedly anticipating the story
I was gonna get to read with its POWs and its WHAMs
when BANG! I hit a pole in the middle of the street.

I was not looking where I was going,
so thrilled was I about what was to come.
When the head-ringing stopped, I was able to focus my attention
and get to my Dad
to get the cash to get the comic
to get to the important work
of reading 20-year-old words and pictures.

If there is anything stopping you from purchasing
the particular piece of exotic comic book art
that you’ve always wanted to own,
you should stop that thing from stopping you,
even if it is a pole in the middle of the street.

That is not a moral, though.
The moral is look where you’re going, dummy.