Elision Sonnet

ii.

I run the Superman equation.
It runs, like an apegirl on a drainpipe,
up a curve, then breaks off
into a period.
Or an exclamation punt.
********* reminds me of plastic bags,
dancing in the wind.
But crime is everywhere, Supe.
And I, too, have been trans*****ed against.
Now my days are filled with work
And occasionally cake.
To what dark galactic hollow could you hurl me,
Kal El?
What quiet place?