American Marvel - a poem

The comics have always been popular among Americans,
Even if you do not read the news,
If you have never read the news,
You “read” the comics. Surely, everyone desires
For life to be like this
In some cartoonish form
Or another.

Consider all of the benefits.

Your pets would be able to speak;
Cats and dogs and mice and birds and
Other cute little fuzzy creatures
Would voice how you do not give them enough attention,
And at other times,
Make you laugh.

Also, you would know exactly what everyone was thinking;
White little cloudy spheres would hover
Above everybody’s large, bulbous heads
To display, “I love you,”
Without having to say a word, or perhaps
On a separate occasion,
To plot some devious scheme.

And on that note, you could see
If the person speaking to you just used
One exclamation point,
Or three,
Where they placed the commas,
What words they chose to italicize!!!

Everyone would have interesting names,
Not one would be alike;
There would be no more Johns, Bobs, Daves, Mikes,
Only Jugheads, Garfields, Dilberts, Supermans
Names that emphasize individuals’ most unique attributes.

You would no longer age,
Your face and body would be in ten years
As it is now;
Probably the same even in twenty.

There would be no more monotony of daily tasks,
Showers would not be necessary,
Rent would not be due,
Forty-hour workweeks would be a laughable concept.

Quite possibly, you could have secret powers,
Change in a glass booth on a moment’s notice,
Be respected even though you wear gaudy tights,
Live through events in which most men would die,
Call upon the weather, see through buildings, fly.

When running, the wind would streak behind you,
Stars would circle upon a concussion,
You would be able to strike your enemies
And rivals with sledgehammers,
Yet never kill them.

The little details of every moment
Would no longer escape you,
You could study each pixel of your world
Because the scenery would not move,
Only the pages would.

You would know when an idea came upon you
Because your eyes would grow two sizes,
Not to mention
A massive, glowing light bulb would illuminate overhead.

If worry or dread ever came upon you,
It would not matter,
You could just peak over into the next window,
See what is about to happen,
If everything will turn out alright,
If you have any reason to be troubled, really.

Of course, there are cons to every concept,
So they exist with this, as well.

You would only be two dimensional,
You would probably have no back,
No meat to your arms,
Perhaps completely lacking legs, depending.

You would no longer be allowed to cuss,
Instead reverted to announcing your frustration
With words like “Blast, shoot, darn-it,
Son of a gun, jerk, hush up!”

Your wardrobe would be a little more selective,
The same everyday for some;
Name brands would be absent
And fashion would not matter in your animated world.

Also, your life would be reduced
To three frames per day, maybe four
If you were popular, syndicated, or lucky.

Additionally, it must be mentioned,
Six-sevenths of your life
Would have to be spent in black and white.

These cons are petty, however, compared to the pros.
Who would not give up their limbs,
Their three-dimensional figure,
Swearing, full closets, their fleshly tones,
For a good hearty chuckle,
For a moral to every story,
For a world where the good guys always win
And you can be a hero everyday?

Surely, you realize the marvel it would be
To know that everything will end happily, that,
Even if you have nothing else,
You would know there always is a tomorrow,
Framed and waiting,
At least as long as your cartoonist decides to continue drawing,
So careful with every sketch and outline,
So attentive to every stroke of black and color.