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We Are Not People


We wolves hear people parallel,
they sit on sofas, swivel chairs,
share a glass of wine, a pint of beer.
Not much.

We masquerade not as wolves,
they rise like a sun sets,
their silverware unaware.

“Kiss me—Kiss me!”

I want you to come—come all over,
come in from the cold.

The rest of them eat,
don’t see us abandoning in
our wolf ways.

We smile, bask in our glow,
soft gem in our yellow eyes.