Thoughts on Cloning
Someday the labs will make routine
The methods used to clone me.
But when my own’s an irksome teen
I fear I might disown me.
The pious tell us that renascence
Is province of the Lord;
Tell that to piping hot pubescents
Back-seated in a Ford.
And when the making of a clone
Is under our control,
We’ll get Jim Bakker on the phone
To fabricate its soul.
Reprinted with permission of "Lyric," 1998