A Poem Based on a True Story and Artwork By Me

This is duck.

I was at the park and so was he...
Sitting on a stone, so quietly.

I could tell this duck was different.
He was cool. Collected. He didn't give a fuck who was around.
He was out, sitting on a rock all on his own.

I was watching him but he didn't see.
He didn't give a fuck, apparently.

Like a Ninja, I glided towards him.
Slowly. So stealthy.

Almost like stone, I stalked him slow taking each step in an over dramatic fashion.
I knew he would open his eyes any second.
He's smell me or something.

And yet, I kept coming up on him...
I got closer... and closer still.

Until my hand was less than an inch from his bill!

Just as I was about to feel his feathers, I had counted myself already the winner.
I was going to pet him.

Fingers reaching, barely breathing it was amazing that he let me get up this close.

And yet, there he sat with his duck eyes closed.

Until they weren't.

He popped open his eyes, saw my hand there and SNAP!

The little fucker bit my finger.

I backed away, dejected but it'd not like I expected to get as close as I did.

It didn't really hurt. More of a warning to get away.

I walked away.

He did not.

The whole time, he stayed sitting on this rock.

He made it clear that it was his park - his house.
Refusing to have his dignity insulted by a park tourist.
I now see this and understand.

You aren't supposed to pet every duck that crosses your path.

Duly noted, thank you for the lesson, oh wise one.

One day it i my hope to be like you.
Perhaps I will one day learn to be chill, own my space and to not give a fuck too.