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A Key Rings
Reader,
do you have
a ring of keys
that jango without meaning
or connection?
I do.
One key used to open
all the doors
to every $1,000 car
I ever owned,
another unlocked
a pirate’s chest
of serene hope
at the bottom ‘
of an old dried up aquarium,
very tiny it was.
Some were kept on
a Harley-Davidson key ring.
No.
I do not own a motorcycle.
Maybe that key
was purely aspirational,
dearest reader?
Dozens more in a mob and a gob,
but in the end
their lasting value is this–
they are a chime,
they make the most delightful
metal clink .
None of them open a damn thing
much less the shackles
around my wrists and ankles.
What good can you do
with these tintinnabulations?
What good?
Well,
I asked my wife,
“Shall we play
a game of
‘guess what this key was used for’?
Do.
Let’s.
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I have narrowed down the number of keys I carry with me daily. At one time I had quite a few, and did not know what doors some were intended to open.
I still have a jar, or box, someplace, where I’ve kept many of these.
I don’t know why.
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And another cultural touchstone token that may disappear — car keys — as fobs and face recognition (you know it’s coming) replace the ol’ steel sculptures we carried around in our pockets
Kevin