rich quatrone | the giraffe


i knew her
and loved her.
still do.
she was exuberant
and sexy.
alive with the happiness
of a girl.
when we danced i’d
often step back and
watch her gyrations,
her abandon.
everyone could
see her strength,
her confidence.
no one could
doubt these.
and yet,
beneath all this
there tread diffidently,
awkwardly, a beautiful
giraffe. a baby
giraffe even, with
uncertain legs that
seemed too long
for their body,
with long ears and
curious, somehow
sad wide eyes
that could look out
on the world and see
all its tragic beauty.
i loved this giraffe
and the woman
who hid it from our
view as if to witness
this wondrous
creature would
somehow destroy

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