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Yielding in infinity

Her stop sign red fingernails tap

tap the frumpy brown Formica diner table

in an impatient beat, melody in double time

of the easy light music

juxtaposed her heavy fried food

and hard decision.

In translucent golden plastic, her water ripples

ripples from inside to outside, perimeter to center,

but in circles idling back into their inceptions

before her crooked glance away

to reflections in the window's glass

where her green eyes go.

She stutteringly utters the whisper

trust your soul . . .

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