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You saw the giraffes first.
Two heads. Heads held high.
High above the other animals.
What’s up with that? she asked.
Great flood where they came from.
Where would that be? Curious. Not caring.
The Mideast. The Near East. Somewhere east.
Great, she said, but they better
not land here. They smell.
We watched them approach.
We need the rain, she said.
I need a raincoat, I said,
holding my nose.
Edmund Conti is a fair-weather poet.
