Dead Duck

It's not that the pond was especially clean or pure or anything. But still, I didn't expect to see a body floating in it.

Dead Duck

I don't know that much about ducks. I don't know what they eat or how they have babies. It's probably bread and, you know, eggs, but I don't know for sure.

I don't usually hang out around ponds and almost all of my neighbors are humans. So I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about ducks. I don't know what they dream about or what they want to be when they grow up. I don't know what they're afraid of or how easy it is for them to fall in love.

But I know that that duck was dead.

And I must've been the only one who knew it, because everyone else had moved on. People walked by and talked about how nice the day was. I watched a young couple, strolling and laughing, as if they hadn't yet figured out that love doesn't last forever. And a boy- he skipped rocks across the water like that wasn't going to be him some day.

I don't know if he was too young to understand or if maybe the rocks were just his way of forgetting for a while.

Because we are all dead ducks. Even if we can't fly and even if we don't spend much time around water. I heard that white bread is bad for us- so then why does everyone keep trying to feed it to me?

I'm sick of Bugs Bunny acting like everybody loves him. Like every season is duck season and none of us are rooting for the underdog. Sometimes I feel like my beak has been shot off. Like I'm tap dancing, trying to get someone's attention, but everyone's too busy talking about the weather, or skipping rocks, or being in love.

And this poem isn't about ducks. It's not about ponds or cartoons or how I fell asleep the first time I watched Gladiator. It's about the water that surrounds us all, as we try to hold still and think about other things. It's about all the reflections in all the ponds and why I couldn't help but see myself when I looked down at the duck.

This is me pretending that I'm going to live forever. This is me trying to dry out my wet guts. This is me still figuring everything out because sometimes I just like to see how long I can hold my breath.

We're all happy, we just haven't noticed yet. We're all in love, we just haven't told our parents. We're all dead, we just haven't drowned yet.

And someday, just past the spot where our bodies float, a young couple will walk by laughing - whispering nothing into each other's ears. And a young boy will avoid all the difficult questions as he skips his rocks across the water.