It’s a fact
American classrooms produce more baseball
role-players than students
if cap is to sport as jacket is to school.
We’re teaching 100 million would-be-Caseys
a slew of athletes under the brims
dreaming pop-flies and smelling of mustard and coneys.
What of the nation’s rage to carpet so many brains
in duck-billed hats, worn indoors and out?
Oh it’s likely a roof of one’s own making.
No more. “The sky’s the limit.”
In their seats the wearer’s eyes, set back in shadow
stare out of some cave of their being.
It’s my belief that kids who wear hats in class
are half-way out the door.
School easily shed like rain upon their covered heads
protected from the weather of learning.
These hats that hover over the thick grass of hair
half-hidden, come with signs that read,
“Do not trespass,” or “Teach me if you dare.”
At three it’s a home run.