Testing the Lock

[Verse 1]
The locksmith cut our house key crooked;
it still turns, if I lift the knob.
You laugh with flour on your sleeve,
I love the way you say “we’re out of salt.”
Then I buy peaches in January,
a coat with six inside pockets,
walk home pleased with the small theft
of being somebody else for ten blocks.

[Pre-Chorus]
The key bites my thumb. I know that tooth.
Still, I try every door in the shop.

[Chorus]
I love this house; I keep testing the lock.
I want your hand, and a name you don’t know.
I’m grateful, I’m bored, I’m sweet on the life here—
then spend Tuesday’s rent on a room with a view.
If I leave, I’ll miss how you fold the tea towels.
If I stay, I’ll wonder what else I could do.

[Verse 2]
One bright dinner, one stranger’s careful joke;
their sleeve smells faintly of oranges.
I come home carrying guilt like groceries,
set it down beside the good bread.
I eat standing up, then save you the heel.
The key’s got a new notch filed in it—
I swear I didn’t ask for that,
though I watched the little sparks.

[Bridge]
Maybe escape is a pastry eaten slowly
at the counter where you know my order.
Maybe freedom’s just the spare key
I keep polishing and never lend.

[Chorus]
I love this house; I keep testing the lock.
I want your hand, and a name you don’t know.
I’m grateful, I’m bored, I’m sweet on the life here—
I haven’t decided what the key is for.