Transit (New Draft)

I let you have the window seat even
though
you know
how much I like the view
this time of day.
and
your head obscures
the firm rolling breast of the bay.

as we pass the place
you used to live
the light
on your face
is like a blue cluster of birds
shredding the ground
for seed;

I watch you
unearthed in short stabs,
the green bulbs
of my planting scattered
and devoured.

look at the light on those buildings
you say.
like they’re on fire.

Transit

I let you have the window seat even
though
you know
how much I like the view
this time of day.
and
your head obscures
the firm rolling breast of the bay.


the light
on your face
is like a blue cluster of birds
shredding the ground
for seed;


like handfuls of fire I said
holding your hands like two brown wrinkled children.