You will reach for an old key
people will be kissing on your doorstep
with playful desperation
you will tease the teeth of metal in your pocket
and look up at the latticed pines,
where the sunlight falls the same way
they want someone’s hand to fall
between their bones, an intercostal
home, their hookup which is
fine, the alcohol which twists them up
like honey, they are doing their best
to encounter life as a perpetual lucid dream
an old key, for a broken lock
that makes you feel safe.
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