The Hook and the Hat

The Hook and the Hat got along

If one day the hook would be hooking the Hat

The other 

The Hat would over Hook the Hook

There was no opposition

The fit was by definition

A way a hat wearer can 

Make that transition from

Having the hat on the head to the Hook.

Ha Ha, one day the Hat was gone

The Hook awaited and waited

Yet even if it tried it could never be withdrawn

Yet it longed

For a hat  to be deposited from Kazakhstan, Teheran, Marrakesh or anywhere

Which kept the sun from burning a dark tan line on the wearer's forehead

It longed for 

A real Hat 

Nothing fleeing or hovering 

A Hat with a passport and a valid ID from the land of Sombrero

A proper Hat, not a Cap

In other words

Nothing a Tomcat would yawn at

If the Hat fell flat off the Hook

Unresponsive

The Hat would say it was the fault of a Democrat

Or a Wombat

Just get used to the floor, it's your new microhabitat.

The man without the spoon*

* Based on a true story;  an hommage to a waitress that was terrorised by spoons.

She was royal 

Plunging her spoon in her tea cup

Fixing her eyes on the mound of sugar

That was melting as if it had received an

Executive Order

Animated 

For distant memories before she landed on a sand dune

Fatigued 

Without a spoon 

Not a drop of tea or hot chocolate

To swirl in the swirling heat

Making a ting-a-ling sound

Like that of a snorkelling King

The Man appears

Dressed in colours from Cameroon 

Speaking like a duck in a cartoon

"I haveth no sthpoon, Queen Mothah"

The Empress looked stricken

Her eyes dropped to the hot sand

"But" the Cameroonian continued, his voice rising

"If you follow me, you may get one."

With that he signalled that she cross the dune with him

She followed

Cursing the Devil

Dreaming of souping and scooping and ice cream ooping

And was never seen again.