Keyless
A guy has his ear up against a car door.
I think this is kind of strange, so I ask him,
Is everything okay? And he says, yeah,
Or rather, he nods his head and puts a finger
To his mouth indicating I should be quiet,
Which I do.
After a while he stands straight and stretches.
I stay quiet because I haven’t been told yet
To be otherwise. Finally, he says he’s locked out.
I smile and say, we’ve all been there, brother –
Keys in the ignition?
He shakes his head no, pulls a splintered toothpick
From between two crooked teeth and spits.
I don’t believe in keys, he says.
I put my left ear above the keyhole
On the passenger door right where he shows me.
The guy goes back to being hunched over
On the driver side door just like I found him.
No tools, no wire hangers, no slim jims,
Just the promise that something is going to happen.
We musta stayed like that for twenty, thirty minutes.
Sometimes I swear I can hear him gnawing
That toothpick through the body of the car.
Despite the back pain, depite the fact
It's not my car and it might not be his car,
I find this process exciting and strangely spiritual,
But I have to pee, so I say I'll be going now.
The guy shushes me again
And indicates for me to be still.
Which I do.
Seconds later he yells, "Now!"
I quickly pull on the door handle, like he told me to.
Nothing happens.
I look over and see the driver side door swing open.
The guy is smiling.
I didn't hear a thing, but damned if that door isn’t open.
Next this guy has his ear up against the ignition switch.
I decide to move on because I really have to go now
And I need a drink bad-like, so
I walk the six blocks to O’Malley’s pub.
There’s a sign on the door that says, back in 10 minutes.
Ten minutes to Frank O’Malley might well be 10 hours.
Fucking O’Malley.
With a bladder about to burst and a thirst as unquenchable
As the Sahara, I put my ear up against that door and
Listen - really listen - because right about now
I don’t believe in keys, neither.
8:10:22 AM  Poems
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