Don't get caught in the fishing net
Of side streets. Like time machines,
They take you back to the scenes
You'd rather forget,
With the same ghostly cabbies,
Street lamps glowing with maybes,
Bins filled with could-have-beens,
And those windows, those stolid
Witnesses of what's gone.
But the memories, once solid,
Will not live on
If you laugh in their face
And race
To the railway station.