In my dead wife's draw.
She was a classic, like her antiques
Preserved, confident, polished.
Each little box would have fifty old fashioned keys.
They were hid in plain sight like the thousand passing days,
Memories of family, old
Lovers. We wonder what are
We preying to find?
What is that we searched for?
Then I wish your dam lucky. Me, I walked right into my
Wise path.
Then I worked like hell and thought of
My wife, her keys,
The straight jacket, my love
Her lock
