My Byronic hero was a bionic man. His steam powered heart, clad in adamantine defense, Repelled every minor assault like nuclear Armageddon. His iron calves flexed hard, propelling him in endless loops Through a roundabout of ambivalence, Crashing into stone walls that fell prostrate at his feet. Each evening I'd rest against him, Hear his soft heart echo like bare footsteps down the hall, His legs, relaxed, heavy, would tangle with mine. Supple as a willow, he bent to any shape the forceful winds required. So I loved him not the way Metropolis loves Superman. I loved him the way you love an orchid: nervous and careful. In trembling anticipation of the slightest environmental change.