We first met April 28th in oh-eight
I arrived at the Tribeca Grand Hotel
in a NYC taxicab, I was late.
I tipped Ahmed and stepped onto the hard bricks
two small Klieg lights lit up the Grand’s facade.
I was ushered inside to the sounds of click-click.
While warmly being greeted I thought that’s odd.
I’m just a banker but all eyes were on me.
In the lobby bar, I heard a toast and clink
I muttered, “Fuck, I’m tired, I need a drink.”
But my throat stayed dry, I soon went to the gym.
Crashing all around me and then I heard him.
Robert Downey Jr. ~ “I Am Iron Man.”
Patrons clapping, but I was gasping for air.
Opening the door, dropping sweat from my hair.
Standing near me, in a striped shirt and dark tie
Iron Man himself as he breezed right on by.
Not knowing this night held a private screening
through the front door on my knees I was leaning.
Bright lights, big city, paparazzi shutters.
Then I heard one stutter: “He’s a nobody.”
As many years later
I Am The Product Poet.
“I Am Nobody”