Car
There’s valet parking
at the Pike Market entrance.
You’ll get your car back.
Intellectually I know that it’s legit; they work for the market.
But the image of me just hopping out of my car at the corner of First and Pike, and letting some guy in a black raincoat drive it away after just handing me a ticket?
On the street? At night?
Ummm It’s hard.
Actually it isn’t the car itself, or the stuff thrown in back. I don’t care that much.
It’s my keys. The other collection of shapes and sizes on my sturdy coiled ring.
They open and drive other things, and, they tell something about me.
Like, where I go, or what I fly, or drive, or pedal, or how many places I stay,
or what only I can open, and you may not see..
I am not interested in a removable key feature on my key ring
when I almost never need ‘valeting’.
Besides tonight there were lots of open spaces for key needy people.
Hey! My pocket feels naked when I don’t have all my stuff,
and my hand won’t stop patting my leg.
Missed Connections are filled with good, bad, and key-needy-haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Before you start patting your leg, email the link to Lovelorn Poets! We’ll preserve those sans-valet-syllables for all eternity.
