Monday, March 2, 2009

17: the grass is greener here



Somedays I think about where all my keys
that I've lost have gone
like the one lost sitting in the metro
or the one lost at that party with loud music and people yelling and girls crying
or the one lost jumping on Jays trampoline
or the one lost running during an impromptu picnic soccer game (these are the best)
will they ever be found?

I hope a woman collects them
picks them off the ground
off the grass
off the gravel
off the tar
and adds them to her collection
always wondering which doors they would yield
and what treasures laid behind the doorways
and what monsters lurk
and what type of people inhabit the homes.

She'd like to meet the round key people
and the thin long key people
and the square key people
and the greasy key people
and the rusty key people
and the jagged teeth key people she would avoid
she doesn't want this.

And I hope that one day
opportunity knocks at my door.

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