the wanting

sun is going down

and someone is playing coltrane

through the open door

dinner cooks

people come home

a cool wind passes

and we all settle

into the night

this second skin

the day molting away

into dreams

lingering for a moment, breathless

caught in mirrors

and back doors

telling us

it was all worth it

perhaps

telling us

the lights are on

and we are inside it all too

somewhere in the fabric

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