I pine for you
in a severe, predatory sort of way

I wait for those moments when you walk by,
trailing a jetstream of perfume
or sitting in a booth,
on the other side of the diner,
pulling strands of hair away from your face,

Letting the light in, letting me in on the secret

In my dreams I am a streetlight to your dancing
a pool of white in a dark parking lot
an electric flame to your circular flight patterns

Come closer
I would not detain you long
knowing, as I do

that certain creatures cannot sit
too long
in one place

Angels,
even those in khakis,
need air under their wings

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