Broken Bow, Neb.
The expandable hat rack on
the back porch wall holds five cloth caps:
one with #1 Grandpa stamped above the bill,
one with 50th WW II Reunion lettered in gold,
one good-looking give-away from John Deere.
These are the dressiest of the lot,
the other two are long past new –
a tan twill, sweat-stained with oil smudges,
a red, limp hard-looker with mesh inserts.
These two are the workhorses of the bunch,
though all of them have been places and done things:
gone to town … bid at auctions … shot the breeze
in a coffee shop … collected tractor-driving dust,
balky-machinery grease stains.
All of them are idle now …
hanging around on this rack …
keeping each other company …
just collecting household dust.
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