Since I've been on the subject of ninjas and superheros:

I stop to rest,
skis angled to the mountain,
and look up.
Behind an orange mesh barrier
a crouched skier bursts into view
and streaks by, skidding closely around gates,
then disappears over a ridge.

Am I,
of the burning legs and aching lungs,
even made out of the same stuff
as this bionic being?
I think not.