I like hats, all kinds:
cowboy hats with red and silver bands,

top hats, those iconic habitats for fat white rabbits
afraid of crazed magicians;

berets, black wool on a cocky tilt, making me wish
I knew more French than rendezvous

and  sil vous plait and c’est la vie;
baseball caps (go Bears!);

beanies – not for me – too silly;
fedoras – now there’s a hat I could

once pull off, could once roll up my arm
(oh, how I practiced that!).

But most of all I like
the little rubber hat I wear with you.