Ducks Among Sharks

Swimming in the gig economy

Photo by Javiera Argandoña on Unsplash

Just two ducks
who couldn't give
two fucks

about Trump's
trade wars,
about ICE,

about buttering
the bread of
Billionaires
with big
beautiful
backrubs
for the rich,
about rising
inequality,

about Epstein
cover-ups,
lobbyists, and
weapons
transfers--

just two
fucking
ducks

without a
care in the
world

oblivious of
gig economies,
cowboy education
start-ups, uber
drivers, writers
groveling for
pennies on
creator
platforms

two goddamn
ducks farting
and waddling
in the water
quacking,
dunking their
heads in the
pond

not even aware
of the fact they
are ducks

two ducks that
might end up
on a plate of
a venture
capitalist
or a data
scientist with
connections at
a Michelin rated
restaurant—

a $35 braised
and buttered
treat with tasty
crackling skin
barely tasted
over a talk
about company
profits and
whiny, ungrateful
gig writers who
want a bigger
piece of the pie
so they can afford
to pay the fucking
rent

just two
little
ducks
you don’t
need to
lose any
sleep
over

Photo by Gerald Schömbs on Unsplash

© Carlo Zeno 2025

______________________

This beginning of this poem got started on a Substack Note that didn’t appear to get many eyeballs on it. Here it is here—

I then remarked on the (lack of) success of the Note with another Note which appeared to get (a few) more eyeballs than first scorned Note—

Never one to be discouraged and demoralised (not completely, anyway) by algorithms and roulette wheels, I decided to elaborate my little noticed poem on ducks.

I hope you enjoyed it.