My Keys Poem by Leslie Philibert

All in all ten; home and work; with five foreigners
just hanging about for no purpose. One called
Trelock for a bike I lost years ago. One with a green
plastic ring that opens my office. Then a key ring with
the legend....Ingrid Heckner für uns im Landtag. My
friends HT and IKON, and why is my door called Hoermann?
A strange buch of fellows, that I like tap in my pocket.

A door and a key; a start and an end; an uneasy move.