Contemplating The Keys Issue Poem by Christian Carbone

I’m staring at a set
of keys on the table
by the front door
the place they are
now but also i wonder
about the places they’ve
been, gone into and come
out of at different times of
the day and night

Keys don’t ponder
these types of esoteric
ruminations, do they?
pie on my face if they
do but as far as you/i
know, keys have no
free will...if they could
would they wax romantically
on happier times of being in
that one place that one time or
feel anger for being dropped
or trepidation when being caressed
by one pair of hands and not
the other, softer pair

It is not recommended nor
emotionally feasible to feel all
things encountered or relate to
every tangible entity that jogs in
front of ones headlights. Human,
animal, and plant stimuli is quite
enough, thank you.

So the keys will be used
‘til they stop being what
they are…useful. Then they
will end up somewhere under-
neath something that may or may
not reflect on whether or not
the ice cream cone next
to them is crying…or not.