if you lived in angel grove

i told her i was
the sixth power ranger
electra, who wore purple.

she believed me.

you took me to your family
and that is what i did.

your father on the virtues
of snorting salt water
awaiting loss of face
and hard time
your mother, you said
was a saint.

your brothers were all there
your sisters, all five
were far away.

now, that girl must be
grown, a young woman
whose mother left her
when she still believed in
power rangers.


and then, your comrade

  (the panther hollow bridge
  with no water below)

and that mother
and her child
they said why would
a mother
allow her child
to ride his bicycle
on such a busy street?

was it megazord
with his sights on you?

electra, who wore purple,
failed to save you.

failed to protect her.

the morphins, not so mighty.

(Linked to One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday, Week 29.)