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Hidden in a pagoda at a zoo,
Someone watched the aardvarks.
Shielded, she thought, from the view of humans.
She was a gargoyle, with astral patterns on her wings.
Her name was Typhoon, and she was nobody's daughter,
Nobody's wife, and no one's responsibility except her own.
As she was immersed in watching
The aardvarks eat succulent greens,
She was unconscious of another's eyes on her.
She had thought she was hidden, but her head showed,
Which looked human enough.
To this, out of habit, gravitated an oaf full of ego,
Intent on asking her zodiac sign.
He thought himself manly,
With charm silken enough to suffocate.
He thought so much of himself that he would
Gladly yodel out his bogus attributes
To anyone who could stand for their tedious illogic.
He was a tycoon, a suburban tyrant,
But one whose Bohemian attitude was fit for a sty.
He walked brazenly up to the pagoda,
With an attitude to quell any objections.
Typhoon looked up quickly at this
Radical change in surroundings.
He looked like he would squeeze through the bushes
To join her if only he could find the entrance.
He proceeded to chatter gaily,
But she saw through his false attitude like an x-ray.
He, on the other hand, didnšt notice a single
Subtle clue or nuance indicating her dislike of him.
He plowed on, becoming more and more irritating,
Until she was furious, boiling over like a kettle.
She would have loved to see an executioner
Appear to deal with the carcass of this bit of excrement.
She felt like sticking pins in a voodoo doll
That looked like this joker.
Instead she looked him in the face,
Her pointed ears uncovered by her hair,
And told him in no uncertain terms
What she thought of him.
She gave him a good wallop
That sent him flying to land on his back.
The last thing he remembered seeing was the
Silhouette of a winged shape flying away.
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