by Al Ortolani
Three ducks walk the parking lot
at Braum’s Ice Cream. They round
the corner of the exit drive, hugging
the curb to forage asphalt. The drake
scans traffic on Broadway, unconcerned
about his distance from Lakeside.
He is drawn by syrup, sugar cone,
vanilla wafer. He stops, pulls his
yellow feet below his wings
and sits in the traffic lane. The hens
follow, assured by his confidence,
his webbed poise amid blaring
horns and waffle crumbs, strawberry
yogurt spreading like snowmelt.
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