Terminal Ennui

Left-behind thoughts
From a left-behind world
Submerged all day
Surface gasping as time stops.

One flight in the past;
One hop to the future.
And here I sit.

Reading the same words
Over and over and
over again
Passes time.

But this is no pastime.

"No news is good news", they say.
Mind you, no news
is no news
In a place like this.

Caught in time's amber,
Numbers lengthen.
Distances yawn.

Now I understand
Why they call
these places
Terminal.

April 2000, Houston, TX

accidental poetry - the writings of abel tasan