felt · 58 · autumn · worn 1932
stiff black felt, the gutter neat down the crown, the brim curled to the
hand of a banker who did not bank for joy. it remembers the weight of an
umbrella against its band on the days that needed both.
the small dent at the front is from a thumb. it was always the same
thumb, replaced every morning between the cloakroom
and the door.
autumn was its season — the kind of weather that arrives in greys and stays until business is finished.
field-note: the satin lining bears a name. it has been pencilled over.