I love my Saturday morning baseball hat,
My anti-welcome mat, which I wear
When I don’t want to put on makeup on my face
Or do my hair up like lace.
Which I hide behind when I’m tired of the real-world,
Whirled and swirled in my own dream-world.
Hiding from everyone,
From you.
I love my Saturday morning baseball hat,
My fat shield that lets me pass through my day,
When gray, without the unwanted gaze, that blazes in my eyes
And leaves me in a haze.
I pull my hat further down, sideways.
I love my Saturday morning baseball hat,
Because then I don’t have to be the
diplomat, acrobat, pussycat, tablet,
or everything else all of you want me to be.
I can just be me,
Hiding behind my hat.
I love my Saturday morning baseball hat,
When the week has been too long,
And my energy is gone
And I don’t want to be looked at
Or picked and poked at
Winked at or worked at
Snapped at or called at
When I’m done with all of that
At least I have my hat.
