.
secret service ducks
surrounding me on all sides
laughing yet afraid
would like soft sunbeam
southern ducks call this white bread
couldn’t be closer
claustrophobia
mallard tickles your ankles
please throw us the dough
half a loaf of bread
my twenty secret service
still following me
beginning in pond
underhanded pitching fowl
not good at baseball
realize and surround
when everything is gone
they will not leave my sides
a circle of trust
like the fockers but literal
obama men
you guys take your job
so seriously you should
work for president
palms show ducks no more
they will not leave my back
following two inches
fly back in the pond
follow me single file
from top of the water
perhaps a cooter
they think a lone turtle
or his gang stage hold up
come to think by sea
promised an answer sunday
buy tennis villa
“where will i go
what will become of me”
need scarlett o’hara
having entire
pool and large ocean to myself
so i shall think
.
