Time Capsule
(This started as a revision of In Durham, but ultimately became it’s own poem)
I look out the window while sipping my coffee and I see in the parking lot a time capsule to a forgotten era. The capsule may be battered and bruised, but it has seen much in the world. Six presidencies, the birth and death of AOL Instant Messenger, and the release of the electric car.
But it also has collected memories of its own which it holds on to. How many times was it the only witness to someone’s first kiss? Or did it perhaps help comfort someone on a late night drive while they fought back tears of a broken heart? How many states and countries has it seen? Left a tire mark in? How many cups of spilled coffee lie in its seats and carpets? I stare at the time capsule, an old Honda, and wonder if I too will add memories for it to hold on to, in the time capsule of young adulthood.