Bangin Banner

Bangin’ Banner



it seems that anybody

who’s ever read a comic book

imagines, as earnestly as possible,

with furious desire

what it’s like to be one of the titans

of the page and ink

wanting to feel that superiority

that comes with powers irregular

whether it be flying, dominance of fire,

a skeleton covered in unbreakable metal

and his claws, his deep-seated anger

the pain of perceived immortality.

sometimes, you’d get deep enough

into daydreaming in tights and battles,

you might even begin to ponder

the limitations those powers place

around the person they possess.

speaking of anger, the savagery of

uncontrolled rage, the hepatic uncorked,

I always rather liked the brutal transformation

rage inflicted upon Bruce Banner.

zeal crept into my eyes and knuckles

when I considered The Hulk’s destructive prowess

as a pressure-release of my own rage

how fun would it be, to smash uninhibitedly

across the landscape, to lay waste

comminution of concrete in my palms

made me grin, steel’s nerves would tremble

at my beastly roar and moan;

to truly come unhinged. I loved the thought of it.

but then, just the other day,

I got to thinkin’

can Banner have sex?

I mean, logically it stands to reason,

the pulse-quickening, the system-heightening

of arousal could possibly mimic

the spikes of rage ignition:

Gamma radiation coursing excitement,

turning green near climax an indictment,

no longer just an engorged member

of The Avengers,

but now

a sensual involuntary manslaughter to remember

think of the heartbreak, the utter disconnect

this limitation forces on him

and I could see my folly, for my

need of connection, even

as the top-order intellect of Banner

could reason to abstain, I would fuck it up

in that scene in Calcutta,

in the crosshairs of intrigue and fear

connecting with The Black Widow

a cinematic passion I’ve never really known

and never could, as “the other guy”

would devour it with rage that abolishes memory.

the act would consummate my most

depraved selfishness and epicurean recklessness:

I would deprive the world

of Full Frontal Johansson.


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