Düsseldorf, May 16, 2021
When I get home late at night
The set of keys rattles
Against the white wood of the front door.
The sound seems so loud
In the silent hallway
And I am afraid
I might wake someone up.
There are long keys and short keys
Wide and narrow
Flat and rounded
Lots of keys, few keys
Plush key chains
Of felt, metal or leather
Branded or cheap
Presents or reminders
USB keys.
There are special keys
Bump keys,
Electronic or magnetic.
There’s the key to my heart.
Unused keys
Simple or complex
Personal or generic
Security keys
Borrowed ones
Or those for decoration.
Without a doubt, the lady from downstairs
Knows by heart the sounds
Of all the neighbors’ keys.
Keys for doors that are never locked
Doors locked forever
Or doors that are always open.
There are keys for keyholes that no longer exist.
There are house keys
For the front door
For the pantry
For the cellar
For the garbage room
For the laundry room
For the parking garage
For the garden
For the studio
For the warehouse
For the gym locker
Or for the vault.
Without a doubt, the lady from downstairs
Knows by heart the sounds
Of all the neighbors’ keys.
The parents’ house keys
Or those of a friend:
They ask me if I could water the cherry tomatoes
Feed the cat
Look after the parakeet
While they’re on the road.
The one I must give back to its owner
ASAP
Or else there’ll be trouble.
There are lost keys and those found
Those handed over or duplicated
Replaced or ruined
Useless or essential
Forgotten.
Those left behind on purpose
Or left outside accidentally.
When I go out early in the morning
I always check that I have my keys on me.
