“Who’s that lady on your head?”,
they asked the lady
with the lady on her head.
“That’s not a lady, that’s my hat,”
the queried lady said.
“I’m not a hat,” said the hat.
“Imagine that!,” said the lady
with the hat-not-a-hat.
“You are not
a lady in a hat
nor is the
lady on your head
a lady or
a hat, but quite
another
thing instead.
“You are
a philosophical experiment
concerning
structures of experience
and
consciousness,” phenomenologists
convening in a chorus said,
“like Mr.
Sacks, who is dead,
in his
book you must have read
opining on the
fellow who mistook
his wife for his
hat or his hat for his wife.”
“Go get a life,” spat the lady
in the hat who maybe
was a lady but who never
was a hat. “When you
come back, we’ll be
a wombat.” To which
the hat cried, “Oh!
I don’t think I’ll be
that.”
.
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