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.
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