When you come into my house
take off your slippers
and the rest of your clothes
and wear the tradewinds instead
that come through the slats and
slam the door.
Put on the orangish light of 5:28 pm,
it's just your size
and the color goes well with the apology
I imagine you offering.
I smelled the rain tonight
before I saw it, or heard it, and
the first time you reached for me,
I was in a small Vietnamese restaurant
by myself.
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