You wouldn't want me to run for office.
You wouldn't want me to tint the world's colors.
In fact you wouldn't want me to change my bumper stickers,
because you'd have to buy new ones too.
You wouldn't want to leave behind your manufactured notions,
that you got for free in your junk mail folder.
You wouldn't want to know what factory your thoughts came from,
or how they might not feed the single mother out of work,
or put clothes on her growing kids.
No, you wouldn't want to know why your head is filled
with someone else's gray matter,
or what trashcan you tossed yours in years ago.
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