Here is my closed mouth smiley hat —
comes in handy when shaking hands
with strangers.
This is my blues hat — it sings
lonely is another word, and pours
another glass of red.
There waits the old black one
patchwork of laughter, Lorca —
that long march to the park
I put this one on and magically —
gauze wings lift — a whistle of fantails
spiral — dance, and while Peggy sings
Is that all there is — Bogart and Bacall
appear in the mirror, clapping
I hold my head high — at an angle.
Renée
