Haiku 1:
Beginnings
Angyl
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.
Fear.
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 .
II.
Found.
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.
III.
Disappointment.
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.
IV.
Empires.
"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.
V.
Collision.
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.
Impact.
Wet.
Cold.
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.
END
 since 02-17-07
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