Oh, Tony—

It’s true.  I really do hate you,  

and I hate that I hate you this much.  This many brainwaves  

should not be spent on you and your comic books and movies.

 I hate that you say funny things in Civil War about carbon-dating Spiderman 

and I hate that you noticed how hot Marisa Tomei is as Peter’s aunt 

because, right? 

Gimme a break.  

I hate how bad I want to visit the ridiculous Malibu movie compound, 

the compound that has been rebuilt so many times after total devastation,

and I hate that I know I would totally try to steal something 

to bring home with me when I went.  

I hate how much I want to make smoothies with you 

in that fantastic smoothie maker 

in said ridiculous Malibu movie compound because what does it say about me 

that of all the things we could do together, 

I want to drink algae or seaweed or plankton-crap smoothies with you 

and laugh at Jarvis?

I hate how much I love how Robert Downey Jr plays you 

and that it reminds me, well, I’m pretty sure 

he got married in checkered Vans which I have mad respect for. 

I hate how much I love that, too, and that I only remembered it because of you, 

Tony Stark.  

I hate you even though clearly the most hateable Avenger 

is Captain America with his nationalistic costume and that shield.  

Who has a shield as their weapon?  At least it’s made of Vibranium 

but really, Captain America has stirred exactly 0% of my loins, 

ever.  With you though, Tony Stark, GODDAMMIT, 

I do get a little wet.  I hate it.  

I hate that I want you so hard, Tony Stark, 

with your Color Me Badd facial hair situation and that metal man-suit; 

your absolute lack of empathy and total reliance on brains, 

well, really, only your own brain.  

Remember the time you and Dr. Banner started creating Ultron

and then he got nervous about it (because he doesn’t completely suck,) 

but you refused to acknowledge the legitimacy of his questioning?  

Remember what a douche-y decision that turned out to be, 

Tony Stark?  

Tony Frigging Stark.  Even your name 

I would hate to shout out in bed. 

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Elizabeth Horner Turner’s work has been published in many journals and has been selected for Best Small Fictions and Wigleaf’s Top 50.  Her chapbook, The Tales of Flaxie Char, was published by dancing girl press. She lives in San Francisco and is online: @lhornert