ETERNITY

The veggie burger settles
in a pond of bad cabernet.
The clock refuses to move
and here the arrow
is a stop sign and time
will not go against its tide.
She is home, Mystie
on her lap decrying
my absence, as I bemoan
the same from the vinyl
seat in the aging terminal
awaiting the flight
to freedom and eight years
of joy suspended for a day
that grow more painful with
 the non-passage of time.