THE BETTER PART OF YESTERDAY

My heart is a deserted street

in the middle of winter, dead

leaves skittering in the dying

afternoon light. I am a stop sign

riddled with bullet holes,

pinpicks of sunlight streaming

through me. And you? You are

everything -- the light and shadow

the broken glass pane in which you

can see everything. You are a street

upon which I used to live, and I

don't need a house to haunt you.