Curse of Keys

The keys fell behind the counter. The sin spilled out. Drove the broken van. The dash lit up like Christmas. Brain in a fog. Growing as friends with Khalid. A great guy. Home to bag of arty kids who draw me secret Zelda drawings. A wife who makes amazing soups to the sound of Irish folk music. A night cap. The Epistle of James. Father, tame my tongue. Teach me not to show partiality. Teach me true integrity. Looking how into the eyes of my daughter. Irish folk is soothing.