The man in the café
Wearing the hat
Has gone now,
Another family
Has taken his place,
But he looked like
Bill Burroughs,
Hank thought,
The way he sat
And smoked
And looked around,
The hat
Was the thing though,
The way it was placed
Upon the head,
But it couldn’t have been
Bill Burroughs,
Not now,
He’s dead.
Maybe a ghost,
Hank mused,
Or just a guy
Looking the same,
Someone else
With a similar hat
Without the history,
Without the fame.
Comments
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great piece! your a great storyteller. I love it!
I want to add you as a favorite so I can keep up with your writes.
I enjoy them a lot.
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Thank you, Catie.
This is one of my favourites. I know I wrote it but I'd love it who ever wrote it.
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