Waiting for the Fog

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All day I have thought of asking you
if you will please hide the hot blue
and unblind me in cool fog.

No change of light interests me much.
No line of automobiles thinks how
I might feel on the long driving days.

Under some cool porch you wait
like a dog for the air to change
before you come out. I see you.

I understand my begging for your
incoming presence has no chain
attached, no tow bar hooked.

Another of those coastal days
you leave me guessing sweater
or shorts, T-shirt or jeans.

And I will be home watching
for your decision, and hoping
you roll into this place any way
you can make it.

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