IN LOVE WITH A DOORKNOB

I fell in love with a doorknob.
It wasn't something I'd planned.
I liked his shiny, finished way,
And how he'd sit in my hand.

I'd stroke and caress him,
He enjoyed it as much as me.
Where I'd go, he'd go as well.
As thick as thieves were we.

Then doorknob told me he found another.
I said, "You what? Who's the flaming whore?!"
He told me we didn't really go together,
That he had become attached to a door.

"A door?!" I said. "You're leaving me for a door?!"
"Think about it," he said, "It makes sense, don't you agree?"
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Yeah, well," he said, "I'm sure."
And so off the doorknob went. So yet again, my life's knob-free.

19 July 2002