last winter
at a downtown coffee shop
I sat on the bar stool near the window

I watched the people on the sidewalk
pulling their coats and scarves around their necks
keeping the wind out

I sipped a peppermint tea, a temporary comfort,
and watched
as they entered their apartment towers
moments later, high up, a window would light up with a yellow glow

a far away
warm, bright, home

and I’m looking at them, and I know, that I should go on
to wherever it is that hearts go on to
that it’s not doing me any good to sit here
wishing for a brightness of my own

but,

what’s hope for if not this?
I’m not sorry
I can’t be sorry
I won’t be sorry
that I’m going to stay awhile
looking at the lights in the windows
of everyone else’s home

it's okay, Paper Heart,
after enough holes are poked
after enough rips are torn
the light can finally get through

you don’t try to hide your breath on
a winter morning—it’s written into the air
I suppose, some things just are
so why hide this?
it’s okay, I can see,
your heart broke like a window
and you’re still pretending there’s glass
it’s okay
step on out, it’s not as cold as you may think
it’s not as cold as you may think

Your smile was green
like a hint.
How a bud signals spring
you waved a flag
of familiar kindness and
my heart saluted
Which is
like love,
in a way

How many poems
does it take
until ubiquity
stops sounding like
an echo off the walls of
an empty, dim cave?
Here I am
I am
I am

you knew
what you were
doing
with all that
slinking around
in
lingerie and
leather
it didn’t matter
to you
that I was
only
ten

you kissed
my childlike eyes
with an
open mouth
until I adjusted
to the
light in the
cave
of your
tongue and
teeth and
lips
you hot, ****
handgun

in high-heels
you were
dancing
on a primetime
table
hammer-cocked
back
turned sideways
for show

commercial
breaks were
the 75 cent
bathroom
vending-machine
condoms
that couldn’t
stop
anything

are you as
proud of
my glorious
fist-fights
as you are of
how
good you
look
with the right
lighting?

my gaze is
handcuffed
to the bedpost
of death
and light-
hearted
****** mysteries

because it’s
just
make
believe
so what, if
it is pretty
violent
after all?
it is
pretty
it is
violent

sure, I’ll
grow
out of it
or get
over it
if I don’t
grow
into it
or get
under it

like I got
under your
sheets
“all the better
to snipe you
with, my dear”

and
I haven’t felt
any of it