::I See A Giraffe::

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Giraffe Blotch

 

I see a giraffe.  Big quiet eyes. Ears just so. Soft little horns. I can’t see his long neck. I know it’s there, beyond the card.

His neck that stretches high into the trees, so he can nibble on the tippy toppest leaves.

He’s a likeable giraffe. Loveable, even. But it’s hard to know that. His head is so very high up, one can barely look into his eyes to see his personality.

And it’s quite difficult to kiss a giraffe. The process goes thus:

You stand by the tree trunk, look up into the leaves, and you shout, very loudly,

“Mr. giraffe, I would so love to kiss you.” You hope he hears you. His head is buried up there in the tree, and you hear munching. You shout again, louder:

“Mr. Giraffe, I would really very much love to kiss you.” Still, no response. Munch munch. Try again. In fact, this time, try a slight English accent:

“Hiya, Mr. giraffe. Seems I’ve a kiss here wif your name on it. What say you, good sir?” You wait. He eats. You sigh.  You walk away from the tree, to the sidewalk. You don’t see one sly eyeball peak at you through tree leaves.

You stand on the sidewalk, looking at the giraffe … you study his spindly legs, his switching tail, his long, long neck. You suck in as much air as you can hold, and you shout out. the loudest of your louds one last time. Oh, and the English accent has become quite thick:

“Mr. giraffe, is a bloke allowed to plant a kiss on your jaw at any point in time?”  After waiting for what seems like forever but was really about a minute and a half, you shout, “Crikey!” as you turn and walk across the street. This, you decide, will never work.

“Uh. Excuse me.” You turn, and look. The giraffe is looking right at you. “Were you talking to me?”

“I … I would very much love to kiss you.” You’re on the opposite side of the street by now, but you start walking back toward the giraffe when he bellows,
“STOP!” You stop. “Back up!” You step backwards and  onto the opposing sidewalk. “Wait.” You stand and stare. You wait.

The giraffe himself backs up, away from the tree. He swivels his head around on top of his neck. Then, ever so slowly, his neck bends down. Down. Down. He brings his neck down till it stretches across that street and he is face to face with you. You can feel his soft giraffe breath.

He leans toward your ear and whispers,

“You may kiss me now.”

 

 

 

 

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