I want the mongrels of idea
To seduce and bed the thoroughbreds,
So that they might grow fat on bastards,
Unexpectedly giving birth to monstrosities
While being shown, papers at ready,
Before a panel of Community Chest cards.

I want impish men and women
In masks and costumes
To subvert the dominant paradigm
By disrupting shoppers and security guards,
Dancing the Madcap and Lambada
And loudly proclaiming, “Who pinched my ass?”

I want to slip Hustler centerfolds
Into hymnals and prayerbooks
And the Wall Street Journal editions
Printed for senators and representatives;
I want to slip doctoral theses into
Porno mags, and swap penises for vaginas.

A Cacophonic Cabal, capering
Across the constipated continent,
Public Enema Number One,
Inserting puns into speeches and bills,
Pantsing meter maids, protesting the pavement,
That would be a fine thing to create.