To a stubborn lock

Here's a common lock refusing to open. To budge and give way. At the close of a busy evening when darkness swallows all joy and spits out a dull stretch of a night, the lock gets sad and drinks a little lock-alcohol and forgets which way to turn. Just imagine my plight, at this hour in the dark, turning the key this way and that, upwards and down, slave to the delinquencies of a drunk common lock.

Leave me stranded, lock me out, here's no novice afraid of the dark. Once in a concrete jungle I walked barefoot till a shoe shop. If your whims and your secrets and your god-knows-what-alien-diseases are to be left alone, I shall do so. Just let me in, O lock, you were bought for fifty rupees. Remember how we met, what stupid serendipity banged our fates together; my ears ring from that first clank even now when I wake every morning.

Notice how our fates coil around, even as we speak, and slither towards a busy end. We are tied to each other, O lock, until the day I leave this place, for I cannot afford to buy another. So, open up, let me in, the warmth inside makes this cold a thousand times worse to bear. Consider what glorious future, trampled in our tussle. Consider what possibility, undone in a shrug of your shoulders. Let. Me. In. O lock, you're stupidly cruel.

I'll tell you a story. Hang there, then, and listen. There was a lock that refused to open. Once upon a time. The owner of the house started living in another house/The owner of the house broke it open/the owner of the house died on the doorstep and his skeleton was found seven thousand years later by archeologists. Man, what's it gonna be? 

Open up, O lock, I have an important appointment barely five hours from now. The sun climbs steadily up under us and even though we can't see it yet you know dawn is almost upon us.