The Holy Grail

The best thing about a hot day in spring
is driving at night with the window down
and feeling cold.  Humid air rushing over
a bare arm hanging over the outside
of the door.  Taking the long way home
to keep it going.  Hoping the house
will have cooled by the time you get there.

The best thing about not owning a gun
is thinking about owning one.  Thinking
about understanding the nature of safety
and risk without having to practice
their balance.  Fantasy of capture
and defense and an easy Wild West answer
to the dread of getting out of the car
and walking to your door unbothered
by shadows waiting to do you harm.

The best thing about a key is how it promises
that you will be able to get in and out
with little trouble.  The plain and singular
permission that is granted to you and only you
to come and go as needed or desired, to occupy
and refashion your own space as your castle
or womb or tomb, and only you will live there
and allow entrance or egress at your whim.

The best thing about the Holy Grail
is the Knights Templar.  The legend of
protectorate and secrecy, possible heresy
in the face of a disaster lurking outside
their castles and strongholds.  The romance
of a single artifact that holds salvation,
a climate that holds true to a promise
of eventual peace.  The need for war
in service to that.  The myth of something
precious that solves the world.