You are a well fed, bold and barking Mallard duck,
and you approach at an alarming speed.
I give you bread, I give you banana,
and that's all I have to offer.
You gobble up the bread,
and hesitantly eat the banana from my hand,
lightly nipping my finger, snapping your beak for more.
That is all I have to give you Mallard,
so, I read to you from a book of poetry by Raymond Carver.
You "quack quack" and turn away.
"Harsh critic", I say, as you waddle to the next customer.
Poetry will never feed a duck.
