I, Lothar Turmurdian, do dance pale and
elusive in your hall, as lucid as puppies in a box
belching rainbows into yellow beams of light
into stars and moons and hearts on the wall
I’m a pooty-poot little dubby-wubby,
and you know it, baby, highway of baby,
baby with a baby hat and baby convertible
eating baby corn that isn’t really corn at all
There is a tv set in my abdomen, HELLO!
Up and About! and as the clowns start to pour
off of your shelf, baby, learn to stand in ovation for
toys on the carpet, and the bloodlust from under your crib