PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My origins are the upper west side of the 'Big Apple' until 1983 when I left for college. I do recall the formidable double loop deadbolt in our apartment and how it was just out of my reach as a small boy. I can feel my Dad lifting me so I could give the knob a turn, mostly I think just hear it work through my hand. I remember the sound of clicking machined brass, imagined the workings of steel springs and other parts collaborating inside. Like learning to walk, a deliberate effort in holding and twisting required to push the parts far enough to then drop the bolts in place. A locked door was fairly well punctuated while growing up. The city was always, with every single moment right outside and seemed to have some inert or subconscious need like vacuum pressure to simultanelously enter every unlocked door in the five boroughs. Albeit subtle, there remains a tendency to regard such an the illegal entry the victims’ fault or at the least the victims responsibility something like alcoholism with a sense of negligence or weakness. Now in rural NH for better than 25 years I keep a house key for novelty or maybe just to keep my truck key company. In reality a locked door out here won’t keep the skilled sort of criminal out of any normal residential dwelling - more likely encourage expensive structural damage elsewhere.

I recall being locked out of our apartment only one day, one really bad day. I used to walk the three blocks, most times alone, from PS 145 to West End Avenue for lunch, fourth or fifth grade I think. Perhaps still too young for a real key or maybe I just forgot it. My mother was supposed to be there this time of day but I rang that bell in vain for better than five minutes even though I want to say twenty but I remember that just two NY minutes can feel like an hour. I had a way in and would not feel the failure of being denied entry to my own home. We occupied a top floor apt. facing the river with a distant view of the GW bridge and a few or more classic water towers, a very nice spot too be sure. The roof was one flight up and the streets a very long way down. I accessed the roof with one finger on the hook and loop then climbed down the steel fire escape. With a death grip on that metal and flaking paint careful not to look down and through the welded strap metal before reaching the flat grate at the window. The accordian window guard was always secured with a keyed pad lock and the key hung on a small nail half way up on the inside edge of the window trim. With luck and an over heated apartment I found the window open and the key where I expected. I gained entry and did not drop a dime nor even ask for a nieghbors time or help. Perhaps now we might think, this was not really such a bad day after all.