Wild Hat in the LoC

A while ago I was in the Library of Congress and noticed- I could hardly not notice- a woman's hat. It was sprouting flowers and sparkly things and feathers in the brightest colors, and was so completely out of place sitting on top of the short, dumpy woman in the calico house dress. I stared at her on the steps, couldn't take my eyes off her in the upstairs hall, and was surprised by her again in the special display on Native Americans. I began to think I should say something, since she must have noticed me staring. But, what?

I went to use the restroom, and when I came out of the stall, there she was, horrific hat and all, washing her hands. I decided I would speak to her. I couldn't say I liked her hat- that would be too blatant a lie. I decided on, "Your hat is so interesting!" Which was very, very true. But, as I opened my mouth to speak...

She bent over and pulled from her bra two large, hard-back books! My jaw hit the sink and I stared at her. How was that possible? She rearranged herself, tucked the books back in, and walked out of the bathroom, all while I stared, the hat all but forgotten.

I saw her again, as I was leaving the library. She was going through security just before me. She opened her bag and the security officer poked his stick around looking for stolen books, nodded his approval, and she walked out the door, wild hat, books in her bra, and all. I wanted to say, "Um, sir? I think there is somewhere else you should check!" But I didn't.

I ask. What would you do?

Dizzy

My toes

Turning on the grass

My dress

Rippling, floating

My arms

Stretching out, palms up

My hair

Flying in the wind

I look toward

My fingers

Reaching toward the sky

Where the birds fly

Into the clouds that spin

Against the blueness that blurs

And the stars that shine

And the night that falls

Like moonbeams

Onto my skin

As I tumble

Into the grass

That might be the sky

And try to remember

Which way is up