A Man Chasing A Hat
Dec 25 2005


There is nothing so foolish
as a man chasing a hat.
Like a kite set loose in the breeze
jerked by its invisible string
you dart, start/stop, and weave
and cut and veer and careen
over uneven ground,
a raggedy-ann man
tumbling like crumpled paper.

You feel exposed
your naked head cold
your hair wild and wind-blown,
like static charge
— or what’s left of it.
And coming so close
only to be snatched away by unseen hands;
because a man in mid-life knows what it’s like
to be tantalized
and exasperated.

Straw hats are hardest to catch,
levitating weightless
just out of reach.
And broad-brims wheel crazily,
like run-away hub-caps
or frisbees on speed.
Ball-caps are as erratic as tumbleweeds,
until they’re flattened by traffic
on impassable streets.

Chasing a hat is one thing.
But what to do when you catch it;
your snazzy piece all battered
and humbled
-- the way a decent man muddles through.
Do you wear it defiantly?
Or take pity,
and let it go free?