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                                     umbrella duel

                           but why do we do this
                           the Batman thinks to himself
                           but no – too late – he has
                           forgotten the parry
                           his cape crumpled
                           across his shoulders
                           like a fallen orchid
                           does not flow and express
                           fine truths anymore

                           the Penguin however
                           has held his cigar poised
                           between two gloved fingers ready
                           for its proper time and
                           jabbed without thought or dress
                           as fine as the carnation
                           he insisted on wearing
                           in his lapel this morning





Batman & black bat wormholes: the Penguin’s trap
identity wormhole: from lost / to open