The typist in me

Hello again my long lost friend
The typist in me
Let's engage in some light self-therapy
As the world goes on spinning
in the dark

I'm sitting sideways at the window
Half comfortable
Trying to find my frequency
A housefly unamused distracting me

A path to the gate is what I see
Looking out of the glass in front of me
It's symbolic, this thing, preventing anything from entering
Except perhaps squirrels
and cats

And when I wish to exit
It is up to me to find the thing attached to the never-used keys
The master button, "open sesame"
As I leave the house unlocked
and myself unchecked