Deserted Winter Stroll

Walk with me along this desert street --
houses prickle our pear eyes, cacti to
our insistence that we see insides --
yellow nuzzles window-panes for without
as within cannot appreciate warmth
that has already set and set -- the sun
can relate, whose dawns and sets are meals
eaten too fast, too early, too orange --
walk with me along this winter concrete,
may the gray and our bones be our guides -- 
we wish for toes and get a vision:
pain holding hands between yellow hearts.