Donald Hall's "To a Waterfowl" rang true of any vivid description of a male poet telling a businessman with a briefcase in hand what he does for a living. Donald Hall pays no attention to the awkward interactions he has with (presumably) dull businessmen struggling to make small talk to someone they're quite frankly afraid of, he drinks expensive champagne with their wives and recites his sexiest poems to them. When he's done doing that, they shower him in admiration. Really, it's the businessman who lacks vigor and a serious attitude for live, not Donald Hall, who has managed a livelihood from a creative talent, capturing the imaginations of neglected housewives.
He changes the scene by introducing the audience (who he refers to as "my poems", or perhaps he's writing a letter to his poems) to his motel room, where he relaxes from a full day of relaxing.
I was falling in love with this poem but the line, "and with hints that I am a sexual Thomas Alva Edison,"(p316 line 28) sealed the deal.
Hall concludes the last stanza by shifting his attention to the reader, sarcastically saying that the reader's worst fears of becoming their parents will never come true, when obviously it will.
What I really enjoyed about this poem is that he delivered his message (which is that he doesn't need any approval or validation for what he does for a living from any man) through a humorous style. I also liked the self-portrayal of a poetic Casa Nova. I liked it.
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