The poem speaks to a "you" whose life is small, odd, and a little sad, and it watches him with a mix of teasing and tenderness. Eight years back, he pried open his doorknob with a Swiss army knife and found a hidden compartment, which he filled with keepsakes: a class ring, torn ride tickets, a magazine photo of a starlet. She is "unreachable," yet she becomes his confidante and his inspiration.
The middle stanza lists his adult habits in a flat, deadpan voice: a correspondence course, a job at a big box store, a strict bathing oath, and savings spent on oatmeal creme pies. These details are funny, but they also suggest a narrow, lonely routine.
In the last stanza the starlet turns up in everyday things, like a ceiling button or a pattern in a funny mirror. The closing image of "sewing up the ramparts / of your heart" suggests that the longing both protects him and walls him in. The mood is playful, wistful, and quietly compassionate.