After being abducted by aliens and left incoherent
in the woods across the street, the government

would quietly whisk me away into a secret hospital
where machine parts would be grafted, little by little,

onto my nonfunctioning body parts. Now bionic,
I would hear the quietest of sounds. Gone ultrasonic,

I would jot down hushed conversations
and stave off the threat of war from other nations.

I would fend off would-be assassins plotting
to kill President Carter and leave them rotting.

I would run tirelessly from Ironwood to Houghton,
never soaking any of my shirts, made of cotton,

over a mere one hundred and twenty miles away
under an hour, zipping up the two-lane highway

just to see my best friend Todd, and say hello.
I’d wear a headlight, sprinting like a whizzing glow,

as my bionic eyes would infrared deep into the trees
where Bigfoot would dare venture out of mystery

to forage for food only at night so he’d never get shot.
I would run beside Steve Austin and never feel fraught

with danger as he was my new father.
Protecting me wouldn’t be a bother

but evil men would always kidnap me, not knowing
of my abilities. My leaps would be mind-blowing

to all but me. Landing on the street 100 feet below
would be easy. My kidnappers would be abysmally slow,

trying to hurry down the escape stairs
while I’d leap up again through the air

atop another building. I’d survey the skyline
and calculate just where I could find

my new dad dashing through the streets,
zeroing onto the location of my heartbeat.

He’d find my kidnappers cursing again
to kill me. They’d hear a click, and then

my dad would kick open the iron door
with such force that they were floored,

but I wouldn’t be. “Come on,” he’d say.
“Let’s go.” Together we’d run far away

to a home where hearing perfectly
wasn’t a requirement to be part of a family.