Me and Time, we stared at each other

Skipping stones across the trembling lake of the gymnasium floor

Considering the risks, calculating the half-life of the student body

Through the rippling reflecting tiles

And muted babbling.


Time and me, we glared at each other

Spitting spite and acid and Mountain Dew onto the asphalt

Eye to mocking eye locking us in place, even as the lines surged forward

Through the densely muttering air

And mindless chatter.


Time and I, we ignored each other

Gluing our gaze to the dried-up-macaroni figures at the podium

While all around us eyes rolled, nostrils flared, lips smirked, hands raised

Through the clashing camera constellations

And monotonous droning.


I and—




No, just I.


Helplessly frozen in the sinking iceberg labyrinth of flashbacks and shitty yearbook photos and dusty artifact moments that cocoon the caterpillars in my stomach with nostalgia and regret and untouched wine bottles and crushed soda cans and homemade sandwiches and rambling rambling rambling trains of thought at a station where Time has finally grown tired of waiting and jumped onto the tracks—


And the second of eternity is over, and I am stepping onto the ragged grass

Through the lazily drifting parchment speeches

And polite applause