Petula, the Duck
I sit here and puff my cigarette.
The rings of smoke rise
and encircle Petula, the duck’s neck.
Quack, she says; quite upset.
Oh it’s you again, I sigh making duck lips.
She waddles towards me; very pissed.
Have I ruffled your feathers, Petula? I just laugh.
She nips me with her bill.
Till now, my finger throbs still.
I shall visit you one night, my ducky friend,
I whisper quietly, remaining calm and mellow.
You’ll never know when I shall appear at your door.
It will be soon, for I do need a new down pillow.