Ducks

The endless pages of my sketchbook are filled with ducks

Big ducks

Small ducks

White ducks

Purple ducks

And eerily incomplete ducks

 

The strokes of their webbed feet

Are burned into my brain

Hey paint this duck

Or this duck

Or that duck

But no no, not THAT duck

 

I have never given this many fucks

About a single

Damn

Duck

 

My fingers are

Covered in the gouache

And watercolor tones

Of a duck whose species

I forget the name of

But hey- at least I know what it looks like!

 

I have never drawn a duck

So many times

In my entire life

And especially so

Such a short span of time

 

It was all for the glory

For the recognition

And it knew it was coming anyways

But how the fucking duck

Did I not even make it there?

 

I drew the damn duck

I painted the damn duck

I WASTED MY LIFE

OVER THIS DUCK

But of course

My damn duck-obsessed

Oil paint-lovin

Public high school teacher

Didn’t turn in my god-forsaken duck

 

I fucking hate ducks

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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