how the locksmith helped, draft 102120121741

you locked the door behind you what else
could i do? you were young, i wanted more.

in his suicide note K dreamed about
Freddie — admired, envied — never locked

silence then, wind and highway lights crawling
now i remember you posing against

painted brick wall posed as imperfection
i had the locksmith come as a favor

he couldn’t have known, what else could he do?
i thanked him with cash, i can think of worse.

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