By Ann Chiappetta
little metal Alloy trinkets
Strung together on rings, tied
To thongs or clipped to lanyards
Brass or silver toned
taste like cold blood
When clamped between lips and teeth
While Struggling to open the door
After Marathon shopping sprees
One might surmise keys are replaceable — after all
What is a locksmith for?
hand slips into pocket
touching the stories
Represented in physical sentiment’s
A pewter policeman’s hat, a plastic starfish
A silver dog bone
If someone else found these keys, would they know? Would
They understand the life
The unrevealed memories
Of a charm for a father
Or a mother, gone
and the bone
Signifying the bond and love
for a guide dog?
inserted into slots
And forever remembered with each turn
The opening of a door
into a heart.
Another awe-inspiring day with Verona in White Plains New York. We went to the bank and got lunch and were crossing Main and Court streets. Verona began pulling me left, . I felt a person pass me on the right and thought she veered for the person, but then she slowed down and stopped a few feet from the curb. I put out a hand and connected with a huge panel truck blocking the entire cross walk. We were stuck, or so I thought. I said forward and we trailed the truck, found the end, and waited for the traffic to clear, then went around it to the curb. When we got on the sidewalk, I praised her to the moon, not caring a whit that we blocked the foot traffic while doing it. Thank you, my sweet girl, for keeping us safe and being such a good dog.
I did try to find the driver so I could tell him how thoughtless blocking the cross walk was, not to mention getting caught meant a fat ticket by the city police but cops are never around when you need them, sigh.
On another note, I must have looked like a local freak, standing next to the offending vehicle and shouting, “Where is the driver of this truck? Hello? Is anyone there?”
I was, undoubtedly, in a phase of side walk rage and also didn’t give two shits who saw me. I wanted to give that driver a piece of my mind but had to give up and return to work. Grrr. Thank goodness it’s Friday.