Glove Box Relic

Searching for jumper cables,

under a year of registration papers,

and a handful of old, dry mints,

I found it.

A cassette tape.

Not a mixed one, just some band

I barely remember, a B-side album

from '94. One corner, slightly warped,

the dark ribbon almost loose.

No player, of course.

Just a plastic rectangle of old sound,

still sitting there, a silent song

in the glove box.

Like it's waiting for a time

that won't come back.