Double Passenger Seat

written on the bus to France

This space in which we stare from now -

A space for us; but why and how

Did we ever find a place to stay?

(That one day of the year, that one day.)

I talks and listen to myself,

As the cieling opens with creeping stealth,

As I stand up, inquisitive, to the ongoing strafe

(That one day of the year you think you’re safe).

As the sky cracks open and we’re swallowed by sea,

I know there’s no one here but me.

1 May 2006