At four in morning streets are silvered
The meter clicks a patient rhythm
He carries maps from vanished winters
And keeps the fare he cannot name
A dashboard moon on leather faded
A coat of dust where gloves once laid
He lifts a key from morning paper
Its teeth are worn but vows remain
[Pre-
The east is turning pale and tender
The odometer runs low
He has one fare left, one bright ember
One way he did not choose to go
Keys that no longer open doors
Sleep buried in his coat
Like promises beneath the snows
Recalling roads they rode
A red scarf hums beside the gearshift
A windshield cracks with winter lines
The key had guarded every threshold
And every porch that once was mine
[Pre-
The east is turning pale and tender
The odometer runs low
He has one fare left, one bright ember
One way he did not choose to go
Keys that no longer open doors
Sleep buried in his coat
Like promises beneath the snows
Recalling roads they rode
The coffee tastes of bitter asphalt
A radiator coughs in seven tones
He counts old keys beside a handset
The locks were built for different homes
Keys that no longer open doors
Sleep buried in his coat
Like promises beneath the snows
Recalling roads they rode
Streetlamps drown out early constellations
A river carries purple shade
He holds a map with worn destinations
And pockets what the papers made
Keys that no longer open doors
Sleep buried in his coat
Like promises beneath the snows
Recalling roads they rode
Keys that no longer open doors
Burn copper in his palm
As morning climbs the distant floors
And breaks the night in half
No lock remembers who he was
No empty street recalls
He races toward the first grey light
With nothing left but walls
He watches shadows leave the porches
The last blue light runs thin
Then rolls the window down and urges
The oldest way back in
No key can turn the iron
No map can choose the road
He carries every vanished door
Into the rising light
