Out of Place

3/13/03 @ 3:48 AM

He's postponing the present, wrapped up in the past.
The future looms:  Failure en masse.
Part of him worries, and part of him fears,
but mostly he's just tired, tired beyond years.

He paces at midnight- not the floor, but his mind.
Trolling his options for what he might find
Decisions are absent and his desire has waned.
Thought he adapted, but it seems he just maintained.

So he goes to the shelf, and takes down his hat.
Dusts off its brim and gives it a pat.
It's old and it's worn, but one of a kind.
Its edges rolled, the leather unlined.

Not a Fedora nor a Stetson, but something between.
Kind of like him, or so it would seem.
Slipping it on he positions it just so,
And looks through the glass at the city below.