poem
Volume 28, Number 2

Marketing

Someone makes a something. It’s for sale.
But it doesn’t promise any miracles
 
and doesn’t offer any magical
whatnot. How bogus. And no spokesmodel.
 
And it isn’t scented with all-natural
essences of … I forget—pineapple?
 
shade-grown kiwi? Anyway, something tropical.
Or rugged. Possibly subliminal:
 
Zoom to MAN WITH SHIRT OFF, digging postholes
in the sand. He’s conquering the ocean:
 
thrust, thrust, thrust, surround it with a fence,
then visit the boathouse, if you know what I’m sayin’.…
 
Don’t ask what it retails for; it’s great.
In fact, spectacular. And you deserve it.


—Rob Carney