Differ As We Do

lonely creatures lan-

guish at outpost urban zoos,

gathered there for view.

a greenhead mallard—

bored perhaps of unfenced ponds—

flew inside to look

for easy fixings—

if anyone might notice,

no one seemed to care

but the platypus

(who recently was widowed)

calculated thus:

nothing’s here by chance

yet truly fate and fortune

differ as we do

I’m not courting now

and what we’d have in common

isn’t bond enough 

to anchor him from

flying whence he came. But here

we are together:

billed to render what

we will, webbed to push our way

through modest water,

unencumbered, you

and me, and thus encouraged:

“more or less, we’re free.”

“Free?” quacked smirkingly

the mallard, “You cannot leave,

and I absconded

to see what I could

see. That done, I’m fully at

liberty to fly

and try what’s left to

try.” Platypus, then, by chance,

laid her final egg.

“I could have been green-

headed; I might chase you a-

way. I didn’t want

to figure things or

think how they’d turn out. The zoo

has interest in me

and—it seems—in you.

O, the story would be nice

to conjugate, duck-

ing half my duties,

causing folks to cogitate

what I mean by ‘free’.”

“You reckon little

things that never dawned on me?”

And diving down, the

mallard found the weeds

his mate might eat. What husband-

ry remains is up

to fortune, chance, and

fate: mom would nurse the babe, and

dad would test the flight.

And those who’d gather,

leer and think, would second guess

their staying power

as well as all things

green. Tiny worlds are rapt in

such absurdity.