Remembering An Account Executive

A poem by Alan Dugan

He had a back office in his older brother’s

advertising agency and understood the human asshole.

He turned his father’s small inheritance over and over

on hemorrhoid ads between three-hour lunches

at the Plaza every day and cocktails at five-thirty

with different dressy women waiting in our front office.

We joked that he fucked them up the ass to make more customers

and were nauseated by him because he picked his ears

with the lead end of his lead pencil as he argued and argued

hemorrhoid copy with us on nauseating Mad. Ave. mornings.

Why argue? It must have been for executive power-feelings

because the copy never changed. Every week, the poor

bleeding assholes bought the shit. When my mind

began to get fucked and go as black as his inner ears

I quit as broke as I began, remembering his prophecy:

that the last working television set in the world

would be showing a hemorrhoid ad for ANUSALL

at Armageddon, that it would have been written

by him, that he would be watching it at 6:00 P.M.

in the bomb-cellar lounge of the Park Plaza Hotel

with a blonde’s ass in one hand and a scotch in the other,

and that he would die happy, with his old man’s

money intact and his asshole too, unlike us prat-boys.

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Poems in English 

• Robert Burns: My Lord A-Hunting: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: The Bonie Moor-Hen: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Prologue: Spoken by Mr. Woods on his benefit-night, Monday, 16th April, 1787 by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Verses Intended To Be Written Below A Noble Earl’s Picture: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To Mrs. Scott: Gudewife of Wauchope-House, Roxburghshire. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Inscription For The Headstone Of Fergusson The Poet: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Extempore In The Court Of Session: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Bonie Dundee: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Rattlin’, Roarin’ Willie: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Mr. William Smellie -A Sketch: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: To Miss Logan, With Beattie’s Poems, For A New-Year’s Gift, Jan. 1, 1787: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To A Haggis: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Address To Edinburgh: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Yon Wild Mossy Mountains: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: A Winter Night : by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: On Sensibility: Fragment by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Epistle To Major Logan: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Tam Samson’s Elegy: When this worthy old sportman went out, last muirfowl season, he supposed it was to be, in Ossian’s phrase, “the last of his fields,” and expressed an ardent wish to die and be buried in the muirs. On this hint the author composed his elegy and epitaph.-R.B., 1787. by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Composed In Spring: by Robert Burns
• Robert Burns: Inscribed On A Work Of Hannah More’s: Presented to the Author by a Lady. by Robert Burns

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Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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