A Time Capsule's Reverie ~ poem

JUNE 29, 2009

Today I borrowed my brother's Capt. America collector's tin. I filled it with torn yellowed newspaper clippings- laid aside like candy bar wrappers while in search for the crossword puzzle. I placed stupid photographs of people and things that mean nothing to me within it. A smiling hippo, with a glint of purple ink smudged in its right eye, gazed up at my face as a translucent wind-up turtle (which is missing one of his Made-in-China legs) wobbled its ancient way into this dented ark. I secretly snatched a shard of the broken blue and white tea-cup that my mother just couldn't seem to throw away, a selected piece of shattered bone from within the glassed-in display cabinet , its value trapped forever in my metal tomb of passing trinkets. I took my father's bent razor blade, covered in caked red dust, from the single hinged medicine cabinet: in its silver blade's reflections twin eyes stare at my dirty hands lost within the possibilities of their frameless fractions. I defiantly flipped down the metal tab of the box, sealing it from future thoughts and memories. Yet I continued to see the light of pointless years streaking through the scattered cracks. I ran downstairs in search of an extinguisher, to put out this breathless fire within my tin, its fumes are poison drying out my mind. Duck tape fixes everything I have been told, so I create a silver monument of trash. An hour later a silver soccer ball exists where once precious memories were entombed. I looked down at its disgusting presence and kicked it into the 6-foot hole in the backyard. Goal, my mind cries in victory, as I watch it reverberate against the brown dirt walls, Alongside the dead cat that Dad buried last year in a fresh-orange crate beneath the dying crab apple tree. Above me echoed the sound of the bleeding woodpecker continuing his monotonous grave digging: leaving me hollow holes to fill with futile pieces of time. My family never even noticed they had been robbed of their memories in my rampage: I stop now and wonder...did I choose correctly? Of course I did. 

The answer is always C, 

for Captain America.