Northbound Surfliner, Upper deck. Rain on sprouting field Separates track from sea. Attack helicopter traces the shore, Churning, Climbing. Guy across from me dozes, beer wedged between his thighs; Half past ten; Doesn't mean he won't be thirsty When he wakes. A girl talks loud on her phone: "Are you gonna get kicked out?" Landing craft takes a run at the beach, flanked by rubber Zodiacs. Dark copter edging away, Toward something I cannot see. "I'm sorry you're sad," the girl says to her phone.