Fetch

They’re doing it again.
Throwing sticks.

Man, they think I’m

Super-thick.

Tossing here and

Chucking there,

Does it look as if

I care?

Lobbing balls

Across the park,

Watching how the

Others bark

And run so fast

They almost snap

Their little legs

And crack their backs.

Pelting through

The muddy grass,

“Look at me,” they shriek,

“I'm fast!”

They’re laughing at you,

Can’t you see?

They think you’re stupid,

Not like me.

I never fall for

Childish games,

And if you do,

Well, I think you’re lame.

Those patronising games

Of fetch;

Jesus wept,

They make me retch.