It’s hard to wax poetic about a set of car keys,
Especially since I always seem to be misplacing them.
They tend to gravitate to the nether regions of my bag,
My keys I think like to camp out in Missing Sock Land,
Where I have a feeling they’re more popular,
Than the change coming to visit from Under the Couch City.
Certainly they are more popular than the random candy bar wrapper I’ve found.
Car keys, are without a doubt, the most shameless of flirts.
I always remember seeing them, but where I saw them last I never can recall.
Botheration. Where are the damn car keys?