One of my poems made it into Drunk Monkeys Pop Culture issue. I wrote it in 2009, when I first came to Los Angeles. I was fascinated with the people who make their living posing as characters and stars from film and television. While they're not supposed to charge to have tourists take photos with them, a five to ten dollar tip is expected (and polite!). Given the ridiculously hot summers here, I can't imagine the job is fun--at least not in the summer. This was reinforced one day when I saw Spider-Man standing in a small spot of shade blocks away from Grauman's Chinese Theater. (Note: The image to the left is not mine. The photo is by Andrew Evans, National Geographic Travel)
His costume was tired--blotchy, and soaked with sweat in places; his Spider-Man mask was crushed in one hand like an old sock, his hair was stringy and seemed to be bleeding sweat. In short, the poor dude was miserable. He stayed with me, popping up in my thoughts every now and then, until finally his story formed and came out as this poem.
Here's the link: