Where Are My Keys?
Where are my keys?
I swear I put them there beside the flood gates, next to the swan song
By the vomit, the killer comet, somewhere inside the sweet deal gone wrong
God it's late and you're so young, is there really no other career option?
One that won't land you in a clinic or a coffin?
That doesn't entail a parade of the desperate and pathetic and stale
Hopped up on the promise of power and the prospect of boning you for an hour
I've never looked one of you in the eye or thought to try
And you're standing like mannequins, like you've been robbed
And your parents? Maybe some did a respectable job
Where did the road fork? When did it turn?
When did the dream machine fail?
When were you coaxed into your first rail?
How does it feel, the dangling feeders to our civic leaders?
The painted accessories to morning coffees, to noon hour daiquiris,
To prowls of the twilight hours
The punching bag, the angry fix, the scratching post for itchy wicks
A refuge for minds orphaned by the grind
I'd give you a ride, but I've checked all my pockets ten times
Better keep it outside
First up playing the bass guitar is Ty, the Peter Gunn theme repeated low, then high
Ian and his stand up comedy act, dressed in a tweed jacket and a Sherlock Holmes hat
What do you call a super hero thief? Man of Steal
Matt doing karate, Esther on glockenspiel
Shania, Up Up Up, Shania, Man I Feel Like a Woman
Ben and Phoenix, the bad magicians, cut off the leg, confuse the golf ball and the boiled egg
The children spilled out onto the steps of the school after the talent show
The fading strains of Jan playing Joy to the World Behind them
Finding themselves blinded by the glare, unable to bear the sun
Falling into holes, whacking tetherball balls, tripping over rolls of carpet on the curb
Forced at the barricade to halt around the dug up asphalt
Spinning, reeling, squealing, the afterglow of the talent show spiraling into a chaos of lost promise
Avoiding further folly, I get them to follow me and a border collie herds grades one through three onto my lawn, but that is that
Under the mat there is nothing but pine needles and beetles squished flat
Where are my keys?
I swear I put them there beside the flood gates, next to the swan song
By the vomit, the killer comet, somewhere inside the sweet deal gone wrong
That stool was leaning on that machine- that means it was saved,
Oh yes it does, it was saved
I only went to piss, I was only gone two minutes
Quit the game, quit the game, it's my fucking machine
And it is his- ever since the first crack eight months back when he won eighty bucks and bought jugs for the table
He hasn't been able to match that, but he's come close
Just a couple hours, a couple days a week
Janice is fine, she knows he needs time to unwind after work-
Joker poker, blackjack, bingo, Keno,
In '98 they took the kids to Reno, had a great time, came back even -
Had Janice believing she was a charm
But tonight it's been tough, it's only seven and he doesn't have enough to keep it up
His touch is off, he's cold, the brown paper coils from the loonie rolls
Scattered around the stool
It's all patterns and it takes time to identify them
It's when to keep a tight fist, when to risk
Back to the house, he pulls up with no lights, chews a pack of Dentyne Ice
Calls downstairs to the T.V. room "I'm home but told Rowan I'd meet him for a birthday drink", now think
Janice has her visa in the hope chest- get in, get out, unless-
Shit! She did, she locked it. What now?
Ashley's bloodhound piggy bank, a plastic stopper in its ass
He wouldn't have to smash it, he'd have it back with interest before she guessed
Behind him, the faltering voice of smothered choice
"I've hidden your coat, and the cards, and the spare
You're not going back there, you're not going anywhere.
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