In This Dream
In this dream, we are all together. It’s December and I miss you. I am not going to believe I won’t see you.
Tonight, you’re just outside the front door, I can hear you. You’ve got on that tweed coat, the one that’s almost yellow, with the thin black lines, and you’re smoking. You’re so elegant out there on the porch, talking in between exhaling, waiting for dinner to start. You say something self-deprecating, make that sound like a “tff,” you’ve dismissed something you just said. You laugh while you set down your drink.
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