Tick tock tick tock – the time capsule ticks
Time heals. Time was a resource of an indefinable amount.
The pickle jar held its whiffy contents. Fermented memories like a surgeon's keepsake. A fluffy kidney stone floating in brine. A painful message to back off on the ham sandwiches.
A glass jar like Edgar Allan Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart sits under a tree in a backyard. It is buried near two guinea pigs and a dehydrated gold fish. It wants to surface. Up periscope. Up memories. Up you and the horse you rode in on.
Its contents; poetry, an old man’s ring, a gold plated bullet, a zippo lighter, black and white photos of grinning boys in ill fitting uniforms. And a 50 cent piece. Stick that in your jocks.
