Chris Khatschadourian in Yerevan

I Missed My Flight

Can you believe it?
I missed my flight.
I was supposed to be in Yerevan,
but here I am still
in Lebanon
having fish at one of my favorite restaurants.

The sea – sometimes blue,
other times silver –
surrounds the restaurant.

Looking out the window now,
I can see
it’s such a beautiful day to be
somewhere else

Waves splash on the rocks, try to hold on to the rocks,
but their destiny pulls them back,
their destiny pulls them back
into infinity.
Repetition… eternity.
The day the waves stop trying to escape their destiny
is the day the world ends.

My fiancée is facing me.
A smile remains frozen on her face.
It is a forgotten smile,
a lingering, sardonic, masochistic smile,
a tragedy turned into something funny,
the echo of a shock.

“We can only laugh about it now.”
“We were supposed to be unpacking
in Yerevan, but here we are.”
“The alarm didn’t go off.”

We’re having fried fish and fries
and hummus.
I’m sipping on arak;
she’s enjoying a glass of white wine.

“Don’t worry,” I say.
“We’ll catch the next flight.
For now, let’s enjoy our lunch.”

The table is a work of art.
It reminds me of the Last Supper.
but we were supposed to be
experiencing something else,
not this.

April 27, 2021

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