To the hat on the table: in Dear coffee

I wear you a lot. I never thought of myself as a hat-wearer, but it seems that I’ve become one. It’s the burning sun that’s been all the trouble. I can’t really remember where I bought you, hat… I have a vague recollection of a trip somewhere and a stop at a gas station. I think I bought a lighter as well. At the time I was pretty into accumulating lighters (though I hardly use them for anything, except scented candles.) I didn’t have more than a few lighters at a time, though, since (despite how it reads) I’m not much of a hoarder. More like the antitheses of one. (Though not entirely.) I have you, my single hat, with your stitched cross pattern up and down, and grey floral peak. The red hibiscus I colored onto the top, the tiny heart at the apical button, and the one on the underside provide your only kisses of color. I’m very glad to have you, hat. I’m grateful.

Last updated September 12, 2017