autumn homecoming

under the bridge the commuter train
glides toward the western suburbs
in yellow oval windows, a binary message
head, head, not head, then countless blur

as I stride over the bridge, north
homing too, but on foot, and unaccustomed
this pink dusk, crescent moon just rising
and the glitter of downtown striving

the bridge rises and takes me up
launches my body into unaccustomed space
over Philadelphia, over Vancouver too
in earlier autumn across the continent

by FEDEX -- these books left Tokyo
yesterday and arrived here this morning
by what magic? ancient history and
global transmission, it pulses

and I pulse with it, strange to be out
at this time of evening. the junkman
takes down his table of third-hand relics
from the sidewalk, how carefully

work has ceased on the old cars
across the street, hoods lifted
batteries strewn across the pavement
blotted by yellow gingko leaves, still wet