I Wear A Hat
Poem By W.B. Keckler
I wear a hat to hide my face. It isn't to synthesize my image. I am not a synthesizer, although I play one online. I wear a hat with a broad brim, a kind brim. I like it when my face is in the brim's deep shadows, only glimpsed like leaves at the bottom of a motel swimming pool, a pool that hasn't seen a net in years. Think of a motel swimming pool that has turned to tea when you think of me. You will find my face under the hat and its rings of Saturn. You will find my face is only shadows. It might not be the most dashing hat in the world, but it does its job. It is so much better than the beehive I used to wear, with the live bees. But that was the year I shamelessly copied Marie Antoinette. And, like her, I am done being a fertility symbol.