Keys
We hide them
under door mats
and beneath
the stairs of our deck,
under the
toad stools and sculptures
of frogs
inside of our garden.
Brass,
silver, steel, and sometimes gold;
they’re inside
my coat pocket or
in the slit
of your wallet, but we forget
and leave
without them, lock
the doors.
All of our plan Bs not
where they’re
supposed to be,
so we open
every screen until
we find a
window to open like a door.
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