Facial Recognition

He dropped it in the mud.
He didn't notice until he fumbled for his baccy tin
but I had already slid it a smidgen out of his eye-line
with my even-toed pointe technique.
I have now become the most tech-savvy pig not going
to market.

I may have a thick skin but I know he doesn't like me.
He lingers, unable to comprehend, before he throws down
my reduced rations then recoils in disgust, mumbling 'Diva'.
I disturb him, you can sense his discomfort when he regards
my demeanour. I can feel his rejection.

When he sits in his armchair teasing out his baccy
I know that the magpies have been playing dominoes with
his roof tiles, he doesn't know that yet.
I know where his Artificial Intelligence is hidden, and
I know who I am, but my porcine portrait torments his gut
with a confusion he will never understand.