I think I may have been Channeling Stewey Griffin.

Carpet
by Rachel Pinkstone

I can see it in front of me: yellow and mocking. I don’t remember leaving it there.
But it’s there.
The carpet itches my palms, however, it’s much better than the kitchen: cold and tiled. 
Where is that duck?

Yes, there it is in front of me. Maybe if I rock to the left—no—right. Where is she now?
This time I truly need her.

I don’t remember if she prefers mother or mommy. Mama, get off the phone with Sue.
That duck, further still, in front of me.
No matter where I lurch I only move backwards, just a wiggle with my pampered tush.
Now what it I was looking for?

There he is: orange bill and yellow plumage. Why must you tease from across the room?
Don’t mock me, Duck! 
Mama! MAMA! Can’t you see the 
duck and I belong together?