At the Millinery Shop
By Daniel Mark Epstein
She wants what no clerk in the city can bring her,
a hat that will make up her mind.
White satin speaks to the red in her cheeks,
red satin to the white.
Blue crepe shades the clear well of her eye.
She wants a hat to fit her head like an idea
so perfect only she could have dreamed it up,
a hat that draws attention to itself by disappearing
and to the head by building on it
a profusion of silent worlds in incomparable colors.
She wants a hat that can think for itself,
that will select the proper head for its household.
She turns her back on the round table-mirror
and a garden of hats on spindles,
admiring the beige lid with a feathery band.
Holding it at arm's length,
her eyes half-closed,
she leans back
under a straw bonnet crowned with flowers
that casually tries itself on her.
I want an entire wardrobe that works like the hat in this poem. And damned comfortable to wit.
I had a dream about Jason Isaacs last night except he looked just like Lucius Malfoy and was wearing Lucius' clothes (that hat from the Quidditch match guuuh), but he had a great sense of humor and was a really nice guy. We were sitting at these outdoor tables outside the aquarium in Seattle, by the water -- a place I last visited with my children and in-laws last summer -- though it was far chillier than it has ever been when I've been in Seattle, there was a strong breeze coming off the water, his long blonde hair was blowing around, and we were talking about the Mariners. I would blame the entire dream on ashinae but I can't see how she could be responsible for a conversation about baseball, let alone for me dreaming that I was in Seattle.
Today I have a crapload of chores and work to do, wonderfully broken up by lunch with gblvr and her entourage. Must find something to wear. *giggling*