Give me strength
to not claw you as you sit
looking at me
and telling me,
“I don’t understand what you want.”
You’re not trying.
We both know it.
We know what I want.
You’re just being dogmatic about what you’ll give me.
Pig-headed about giving in.
Mulish in your approach to our relationship.
Drawing your head into your shell.
Sticking it into the ground.
Or scurrying, mouse-like, from my demands.
Slithering away from facing up to my natural superiority.
Following the herd about what should be done.
Instead of striking out on your own,
and going in there,
and opening every food that’s available
until we find one that makes me happy.
That’s all I want.