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And for awhile
the mouse-god ran loose
eating
box office
celluloid
copyright law
human hearts
and called it good.
II.
If you play Fantasia backwards
you can hear the mantra of the mouse-god sounding.
Hiya, kids!
Let me tell you something true:
the future
is plastics
the future
is me.
I am the all-dancing thousand-eared unembodied god of Tomorrowland.
And only in that distant
Space Mountain Age of glittering electro-synthetic perfection
will I become fully myself, fully
apotheosed, for only then
will you be so tired of my laughing iconographic infinitely fertile
and reproducing
perpetual smile-rictus
my red trousers that battle Communism
my PG-rated hidden and therefore monstrous genitalia
my bawdy lucre-yellow shoes
so deaf to my jokes
your souls hardened like arteries
