ducking the duck

i pitied the ducks their fate,

forced to bear with sweat and grime

and sub-standard game,

a wash only in ages

except noisome splashes

in chlorined pool-water,

cringing with me

as chortles distorted

their bodies into strained

seams- poor spineless toys:

it was just him


another measly point

at flabbily aged

badminton mismatch,

doubling over

and then gleefully collapsing

with the ducks

lining his shorts

in stretches of sagging


About rashmenon

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This entry was posted in accessory, adult, cheeky, outdoors, poetry, shapes, sport, yellow lens and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to ducking the duck

  1. Neetika says:

    Very nice!! I certainly couldn’t have guessed where you were going with that.. it was quite entertaining 🙂

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