Haiku 1:


August 2002

Disclaimer: They belong to DC Comics and the WB as well as a whole slew of other people, but in my dreams they're mine!

hai·ku Pronunciation Key (hi koo) n. pl. haiku, also hai·kus
1. A Japanese lyric verse form having three unrhymed lines of five, seven, and five syllables, traditionally invoking an aspect of nature or the seasons.
2. A poem written in this form.



I used to be so afraid of things. Of being sick. Of dying. Of not being loved. Voices in a corn field, my father telling me to open my eyes, a boy strung up like a scarecrow. My mother leaving me alone with my father.

And then a flash of light, the world turned upside down and I was reborn. Naked, bald, no longer sick. Different. Alone.

I'm not afraid anymore, Dad .



The icy serenity of space and then heat. Falling, falling so fast until the impact woke him up and opened his space-faring cradle, exposing him to a strange place filled with rock and heat and nothing he could remember or relate to.

Wandering, nothing hurting him, not burning rock, not sharp stone, not tumbling down the huge hole to where the strange thing was upside down and where there were people like him inside it except they were upside down. Then, arms surrounding him, a blanket enfolding him, unconditional love.

He found what he'd been looking for. A home.



The trouble with being the world's strongest teen was that you couldn't do anything at all. All I wanted was to make it through high school without being a total loser. Well, actually I wanted to join the football team to avoid the chance that somehow I might be targeted at this year's homecoming scarecrow. No such luck.

Hang in there? I'm sick of hanging in there. Doesn't Dad realize I'm a teenager, or has he just forgotten what it's like to be one? No, he remembers just fine. He was captain of the football team, dated Nell Potter who was head of the cheerleading squad. He got his glory, got his Lana Lang and was the hero of Smallville High.

I run at supersonic speeds when I miss the bus and beat my friends to school. I bench press tractors, and perform incredible feats and no one can know about them. At school I'm Jonathan Kent's somewhat disappointing son, the bookworm, the shy one, the one who trips over his own feet and is gawky and awkward and a klutz. The personae I have to hide behind because I'm supposed to be 'hanging in there'.

Thanks, Dad, for reminding me again just how different I am.



"Thanks, Dad."

Striding into the crap factory that was now his responsibility, Lex Luthor looked around his stepping-stone to the future. Lionel might have thought of this as punishment for his escapades in Metropolis but Lex looked at it as his rite of passage.

And one more nail in dear old Dad's proverbial coffin.



The music was blaring, the road was clear for miles and the gearshift was begging to be popped into a higher gear. It was one of the few times he felt free, when the speedometer crept up and only his skill kept him from dying. A hold back from his not so distant misspent youth.

Except that today he drove with a purpose. He had a castle to claim as his own.

The ringing of the phone, a split second when all things blurred together and then snapped into place with blinding clarity. Razor wire on the highway, a kid on the bridge, and no way to stop in time.

Sorry, Dad. Looks like you win after all

I keep staring at the water like it holds all the answers to my past, present and future. Its just water and I'm brooding. So sue me, I'm a teenager, I'm supposed to brood.

Of course I'm also supposed to be paying attention to my surroundings but hey I'm not perfect and I'm caught up in crushed dreams of hope and glory, lost love and teenaged angst so I don't hear anything until the squealing of tires and the grinding of gears and then.




But no pain.

It was easy for Clark to rip the roof of the Porsche, as easy as it would be for another person to pop the top on a can of cola. The man inside wasn't moving; he didn't even look like he was breathing. Oh shit!

Pulling him out, Clark dragged the other man to the shore and gently propped his head against a rock. Checking for breathing and not finding it, he acted quickly, thanking his lucky stars that he let Chloe talk him into taking that Red Cross first aid course.

Pressing his lips to river-cooled ones; he breathed air into the other man's mouth in what was, he would later remember, his very first kiss of sorts. When that wasn't enough, he began CPR, all the while praying fervently. "C'mon, don't die on me!"

One moment he was flying, soaring over Smallville and the next he was staring up into the greenest water-washed eyes he'd ever seen, eyes that only enhanced the beauty of the young Adonis who'd saved his life. The legend of Zeus and Ganymede suddenly sprang to the forefront of his sluggish mind and he thought somewhat inanely that if the youth in myth had looked anything like this beautiful creature then yes, he could understand why Zeus whisked him away, made Ganymede immortal and made the youth his lover.

Hot on the heels of those fantastical thoughts was a more practical one.

"I could have sworn I hit you," he husked, looking at the boy he now considered his own, personal angel.

"If you did, I'd be... I'd be dead," Clark replied, looking back at the damage and finally beginning to realize what had really happened in those frantic moments.

Lex reached up to grasp at the younger man's jacket. "Hey, hey kid, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." And with that Clark Kent fainted into Lex Luthor's lap.


  since 02-17-07


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