I Could Be

I could be better to you

... For you

But the ghost standing

By the corner

-- holding a glass

of pink lemonade --

He taunts me

And he grins -- oh that

Malicious grin;

And he dares me.

He glides over to sit

On the

Lacquered coffee table;

His transience

Blurring

Your jagged edges.

His hollowness

His false distance

His inferiority

Bitter

Piercing

Permanent.

I could be better to you

... For you

But the ghost sitting

In front of me

Is still stepping heavily

On my

Bleeding toes.