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 Hewn from an oak
 it frames a charlatan fire
 that looks the part
 but feigns heat
 and uses gas like a leak.

 Our lives sit upon it,
 the odds and ends
 of our daily comings
 and goings.
 Pocket ammunition

 that we keep close
 at hand in the outside
 world, quickly drawn
 in times of need,
 modern day

 gunfighter's irons.
 Yet they are dumped
 unceremoniously
 when we reach
 the sanctuary of home.

 They become
 unnecessary discomfort
 that dig in limbs
 and posteriors when
 claiming blessed leisure time.

 Yet heaven forbid
 we step into the breach
 without our wallets
 and watches, phones
 and keys, glasses

 and pens, it leaves us
 feeling more naked than
 an emperor's vanity.
 So I keep them
 in view, forever prompting

 My memory, and
 annoying my spouse
 with blatant disregard
 for the in-house rules
 of tidiness and order.