Commercial success

Someday I would like to be

America’s largest-selling brand,

to be able to tell Mrs. Olsen

to take her mountain-grown coffee

(and the mountain)

and shove it.

I would like to have Mrs. Whipple

fondle me in her husband’s market,

while his customers look on.

Someday I will be the most popular man

in town because I brush my teeth

with fluoride and “sex appeal”

(hidden somewhere in that tube—

a secret ingredient, I assume).

Or perhaps I will become a muscular cowboy

after smoking the best cigarette

and eating the right cereal (once a day).

But perhaps the success would be too much

for me to handle—having to hide

in back booths of restaurants

as a result of my immense popularity;

having to constantly wear sunglasses

(the kind that attract beautiful blondes).

Perhaps I am better off now,

unknown to the world,

dressed in my plain brown wrapper.