Only two pairs of shoes.
Any more and you’re walking in circles.
How many pairs of shoes should you stay in a life?
I don’t know.
I noticed today that I have only one key
on my keyring.
Do I even need a key ring?
I’d have thought I’d need at least
5 keys as proof of adulthood.
Proof of existence.
A jailer’s set.
Little shiny trophies of responsibility.
But there’s a strange freedom with just one.
A single key in the palm of my hand:
that life really is simple and relatively unowned.
And I rarely lock my front door –
I may as well be keyless
when all I truly need are the keyless doors of
life and death.
Tonight, in my little flat,
I am full of music.