I grew a hat

it’s a part of me

a little piece of inside

when I’m out,

in a head tilt,

a shutter peak,

hiding like mountains

under snow,

tree canopies

in desperate corners

of a ceramic world

I wonder if clouds sigh

when another

enters the blue;

it’s why I prefer nights

the daddy of all hats

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there’s a man

on a train

with his head

in his hands

I’m three seats behind

a man

on the train

with my head

in my hands

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long have I stood

long stood have I gazed

long gazed have I thought

long thought have I suffered

long suffered have I

long have I stood

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