by David Bruzina

Because you would not stop
crying at ordinary sights—

the maple tree gone red on the corner,
the three kids riding their bikes in the street—

I am become, not light, but air.
That’s me riding shotgun.

I am your belch.
Me in the holes of your cheese.

DAVID BRUZINA currently teaches reading, writing and rhetoric in the English Department of the University of South Carolina Aiken. He enjoys cooking, fishing, hunting, arguing, and goofing around with dogs.