The Key

The Key

Here is the key to the city.
I know, it is heavy. Not the city,

the key. Not to mention gold
and beribboned. I'm assuming the gold

isn't just brass. Should I bite
it? Can't you taste gold to test it, bite

down to see if it puts up a fight
in your mouth, against your teeth? Fight

the urge to brandish the key
like a baseball bat. No, you cannot key

the Mayor's car, nor egg
its windshield, or knife the tires. Egg

me on to fit the key in a lock,
to turn it, a steering wheel that can unlock.