watching out for me.

and philosopher gave me a jacket, camouflage and worn. boy used to wear it in the fall. he thought i'd like to have it.

i took it off the back of my chair and brushed the edges of the sleeves with my fingers.

as it moved, i heard a slight rustle.

i checked one pocket and then another.

in the small breast pocket, a folded up piece of paper. i slowly unbuttoned it and took out the paper.

ballpoint pen ... an assuming potential superhero, fedora, trenchcoat, tie. lightning bolts as tears tapering away from the inside of his pupil-less slitted eyes, hands behind his back, broad shoulders.

i miss finding scraps of paper around my desk with unborn heroes and lost villains. but i keep finding them in stranger places ... my journal, pockets, my address book.

i held this piece of paper for a long time before i put it in plastic and taped it to the wall over my desk, like he drew them to guard me after he was gone.