I saw a cast off hat
that danced upon a wall of scarves
and placing the fedora upon my head
felt silk fingers run through my ego,
seductive strokes with a phlegmy cough
Liza Minnelli passed by singing Judy Garland
her perfume as loud and long as her vibrato
layered with artifice
"Parts are posted for Chicago. Your name is on it!" she crooned.
My mirrored image bore black stockings
coat tails flashing Grable's gams
Monroe's pout covering Streisand vocals.
(the hat...the damn hat!!!)
and me all big in myself
breathing Hollywood life back into little girl dreams
hair brush microphone and oversized shoes
Discomfited by the power
the pull of a dangerous preoccupation,
tucking secret desires under the felt brim,
like a diary between the mattresses...
I place the hat on the head of my father.
He beams into the mirror with a lengthy "hmmmm" of self consideration.
It looks good on him. Suits his eccentricity.
"You think I should buy it?" he asks.
"No!" I say....taking it from him.
"It's perfect for me."