In the days wrapping around
When my personal calendar flips its new page
Memories meld into year-end slideshows
That become marathons
Of past ones I’d forgotten I curated before.

My first car,
I haven’t recalled it in years,
Has been circling the last day
An old Tempo
Too slow to keep a beat
An interior a shade darker
then it shows on the outside.

It would frighten and stall
From thunder crashes & train tracks crossings
We’d take longer trips,
Circumnavigating any obstructions
Even if it means,
We’d miss the opening bands
Or the best joke told over pints at the bar that night
We’d stay home if dark clouds were on the horizon

When playing its slideshow retrospective,
From Twenty calendars past
In split-screen with my most recent
I lose track
Of which side
Is showing
which show
And just how much
I still drive that long-gone car.