For the Boy with a Thing about Hats

[Degorram]

For the Boy with a Thing about Hats

 

I call you that,

but by all rights

you’re a man.

Man enough to hold a tan fedora loosely in your hands,

twirl it like it doesn’t matter,

like a glass of scotch,

or whiskey,

whichever suits your face.

Man enough to wear a full beard

and you wear it well;

not like those boys in grade school

who wear theirs whether they have them or not.

You’re older than me.

Old enough to drink,

old enough to go to war

without anyone asking

if you’re ready to die or not.

Drafted

like the first page of a poem

with forces moved where they are needed,

in some areas

completely scratched out

and left behind in ruined scribbles.

I call you a boy,

but by all rights

you are a man.