Alice O. Howell
Tycoon
Call him a tycoon, he likes that
in fact, he is a jovial swindler
and his signature on contracts
looks like a grapevine
he has a big belly and dainty toes
everything is on the up and up
and laughter sweeps away the rest
at noon, the sun shines on the hard polish
of the desk and on a harder heart
the office is at Olympian heights
and the hovels are far, far away
the buttons on the inter-com are red and gray
sometimes he fingers them, whispering
hire! fire! hire! fire!
somewhere his mother weeps for him in Hades
knowing Charon is bringing him black death
before long.
a.o.howell