Nothing here follows ordinary logic, and that's much of the fun. Sleeping Ace, a man with a cowboy-sounding name, is sad in Texas with his wife, and the lines drift between money, hair, education and outer space without explaining how they connect. His wife offers advice that sounds like wisdom but doesn't quite make sense: money can save you, and solitude will "strengthen your hair." The poem seems to enjoy how empty, and how oddly confident, everyday talk can be.
The strangest detail is his millions, which float above the atmosphere where no one can wake them. That suggests wealth that exists but can't be touched or used. Sleeping Ace stays passive, sitting around and doing nothing, and even keeps a thought to himself during a phone call. Mrs. Sleeping Ace says she is getting an education "just moving my car," which is both funny and sad.
The mood is deadpan, dreamy and a little lonely. The ending, with "plane wreck ventures," adds a final jolt of dark absurdity.