My wife calls them “Bert and Ernie” -
a larger white duck,
a younger mallard,
we see along the shore,
on our evening walks,
as the track meets the sea.
Which one is which,
I ask -
knowing what she will say.
The larger one is Bert -
he does look a bit angry,
if it is a “he”.
I don’t want to assume gender.
The Ernie looks nothing like the Ernie I saw on TV as a child,
or the Ernie I got for Christmas when I was nine,
but he (gender assumed) does seem to defer to the other one.
We discuss how I assumed they were gay,
when I was in primary school,
but no one wants to hear such things from a child.
Same bed,
same attitudes as our parents -
who wouldn’t know they were partners.
They see us approaching with puppy,
and give disgruntled quacks,
letting us know this is their space,
as they slowly walk away.
Oh, great -
those human fuckers with that annoyingly eager puppy,
says Bert.
Lee Sturgis