head case

When I see a box the first thing I think of is putting something in there, namely my head. Because it’s safe inside: there’s no news, nothing is broken, no cars or wayward pedestrians. And the intimacy makes me forget my loneliness.

Lost of things come in boxes. Appliances do, and jewelry if it’s properly packaged, and board games, all of which got their start inside someone’s head. 

You know how Emily Dickinson said she knew a poem was good when it seemed to take off the top of her head? For the same effect, just put your head in a box - no permanent damage. 

You don’t have to dress up to do it. You don’t have to comb your hair or brush your teeth, although you should brush your teeth. In all cases, it’s good to have fresh breath, especially inside a box. So I take that back. 

I like the neat quad-ness of boxes. Four walls, four winds, the four noble truths, the four horses of the apocalypse, the Beatles. 

Putting your head in a box isn’t as dangerous as sticking it in an oven, or into a shaft that spits rocks at you and dirt, or a pipe that might be a tight fit. I saw a kid once who got his head stuck between the posts of a balcony, and for all I know he’s still there.