The Secret Life Of A Hat
Poem by Joe Duvernay
Kept painful sun off head.
Shaped for comfort, fit and cool.
Tipped slightly crooked for a time.
There the cause grows weary at the edges.
Chewed on. Left hung on hook near door,
more access and ready.
Stepped on when?
Steady warmth noir. Bought and set for effect too.
A Mercurial attachment.
The Hector brim or
Slim, close around the rim of it.
Ear muff's as ear to them. Wouldn't bother you normally with this stuff.
Some say they haven't the face for one.
I say cold, wind, sand or water will sort you out.
Will lift it's glass, shout names,
make you grab gloves, coat and hat. Aim to keep it screwed on tight,
Your head late, very late at night.
Thoughts undercover and out-right,
Come for a touch of their own
Under one set for thinking.
Cap, base-stealing. Now ought forces pinned back at the heal,
Bear up secrets not yet revealed.
Here missions tempt us please...
Paint our lives in one of these.
As camouflage waves flags throughout.
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