I’ve got acetylene up my nostrils and uranium in my brain.
When people give me shit, I crackle like a Geiger counter.
If I lift the fishing fleet for midnight munchies,
or I stomp a few salarymen in the Ginza,
I don’t care if the Tank Police haul me in.
I’ve got no problem sleeping it off in a lead-lined aquarium.
I just want my one phone call to ring up Mothra.
Even with a 20 ton egg to incubate, she’ll bail me out.
She knows the Corporate State’s no place for an artist.
After she takes me home, she slips into her dragon kimono.
and lights some incense while I recite my haiku:
the innocence of cranes; something, something, the moon.
In bed, she fans her furry wings over my ventral plates.
When we kiss, it’s like the Bomb going off on Bikini.

Original appearance in Umbrella.