The first organizer was Noah. Tied to a boat 
he counted giraffes on all ten fingers, mumbling 
as he went, here Dolly, HERE Angus, no not like that—
chocolate-like he tempered himself to the toes. 
Did the predators forget their evolution? Pocket eyes 
staring out of lacy skulls, daggering antelopes 
like hot summer cantaloupe. A gosling gets a splinter 
do the hyenas go mad with the scent of carnage? 
Oh Noah. I feel ya. 
How to keep the plucky chickens and the white rabbits
nimble-footed and sure of themselves, how to encourage
gazelles to daily run ark-perimeter laps so as not to become dolorous.

Can you imagine! Without Noah’s organization, the animals 
would’ve eaten themselves silly after their own salvation. 

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