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May 1
My hands do things I’m not aware of

They hide my keys
In the pockets
Of freshly laundered pants

Inside many
Pieces of furniture

Dangling from my bicycle lock
(For 3 hours)

Hanging from the front door lock
(All day long)

By a flower growing
In the crack
Of a sidewalk
That I had knelt down
To examine

In the fridge
I know

My hands lock my keys up
In the backyard shed

In the trunk of a car

In a car’s ignition
With the motor running
No joke

And of course
Inside my house
While I am
Outside my house

One day my hands
Unbeknownst to me
Will lock all of the doors
And throw all of the keys
Written by
Jean-François Daignault  46/M/Montréal, Québec, Canada
(46/M/Montréal, Québec, Canada)   
   BR Dragos
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