The Lost Head, A Poem by Chris Russell

I hadn’t slept much the night before, and my brain was having difficulty waking up. I took a shower and went downstairs, but halfway down I lost where the stairs were, and I somersaulted down them, crashing into the back of the front door. I stood up, grabbing the back of my head and checking for blood, but when I touched it all I felt was air, so at some point in the fall I must have lost my head. I went back through the living room to find it, but I was having some difficulty locating it. I looked under the couch. Not there. Behind the TV. Nope. I was starting to get a little frustrated. “Honey, would you come down here and help me look for my head? I really don’t want to be late for work,” I said. “Be right down,” she said. “Where’d you last put it?” she said. How she got downstairs so fast was beyond me. I hadn’t seen her come down. “Where are you?” I said. “I’m right here,” she said. I reached out to touch her, but my foot stepped back. I rolled onto my back and asked her to crouch down next to me. “My feet seem to be acting up a little. This ought to take them out of the equation,” I said. “Let me come down to you,” she said. Then I heard the front door shut and the car leave the driveway. I just eggied there for a while, motionless, wondering what to do. But my thoughts were getting harder and harder to come by.

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