the hat boxes

three hatboxes.
empty
now, left behind on the high
shelf from
stores that have
come and gone.
the names
in script on the side,
a black box.
a gold box, a striped
white and green
round box.
what became of the hats
all those years.
the heads
below.
the lives lived under.
there must have been rain,
and wind. they must
have been tilted
to shade the eyes from
the sun.
into the bag they go now.
to the garage
to the can,
pushed to the curb
for Monday.