I reading

Buck Rogers

in my bedroom;

Like a flash of old times

I remember

Admiral Cornplaster’s

name and numen,

his misadventures,

fleshed in windowpanes

in the comic-strip;

climbing the walls of rooms,

hanging like a bat

from ceilings,

his green profile

against naval

summer whites

and gold frogs

lovely and lovable,

but formidable

like a big baby whale.

Did he love Buck or

only leave him loving?

Krypton will never know,

never cross his path.

And roly-poly earnest

his face fakes my

childhood back

alone reading upstairs;

World War Two

rumbling on out there,

Europe pounded down

and the green Pacific

atolls flashing back

to bare coral.

But soaring on tasteless wings,

I roared like the devil-dogs of Mars,

out out out

into deep space

and I had a crush on

you, cute Admiral,

and I wanted you for my friend.