A worker named Dum Dum Pop goes about the grim, routine job of cleaning a fish tank. He scoops out the dead goldfish with a net, notes each one in a log with a pencil, and tips them into the trash. Every fish is "accounted for," recorded by number and value. The poem's twist comes when it turns to Dum Dum Pop himself. He is the one who does the counting, yet he lives "inside cardboard" and will die "full of lead" with no burial, headstone, or memory.
The speaker's tone is dry and deadpan, but there is a quiet sadness underneath. The poem seems to feel for someone whose work is overlooked and who is valued less than the fish he logs. The odd, cartoonish name sits against the bleak subject, which makes the mood both darkly funny and lonely. The last lines trail off in short fragments, as if the memory of him is fading while we read.