My mother had me wear a hat,

I did  not care too much for that.

The hat, with straps, was cow-dung brown,

Wearing it, I felt like a clown.

A clown who sings an “I can’t” song,

A clown who must not know from wrong.

A clown with cow-dung over his ears,

Blocking out sounds, blocking in fears.

I donned it when I left for school,

But doffed it soon, being no fool.

 

Once I thought I’d beaten my mother,

But when I see a man in an

“I can’t” hat,

Walking,

Too scared to hear this,

Too scared to do that,

Why am I so scared of him --- that other?

 

    

                                             

                                                                                                  -    Jeffrey Eisenmesser, 1986