two hats

I wear two hats,
no, really
I wear two hats.
They are both
in my work bag,
one grey and
one olive drab.
They're the poofy
kind with a bill,
maybe Scottish
in origin and design,
acquired at a hat shop
in Annapolis, Maryland,
one for me and
one for my son.
He no longer
wears his hat,
so I stole it.
The colors match
every piece of clothing
in my wardrobe.
I've always loved
hats, but even moreso
now that my hair
is on the way out.
They make me
feel older, adult-like,
covering up the
vulnerabilities of
childhood buried
deep inside.



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