This Made Me Think of You

It is self-evidently claimed that the cranium contains

the brain and that the brain sustains capacities without

which nothing could be gained, retained, maintained

or ascertained, and which adduce to how we take in

and explain the sensory experience which is the grain

that makes the bread of consciousness. But what

a limited – nay, irresponsible! – description, counter

Fred and Ed, who’ve often said it utterly deforms

the understanding of the great pragmatic gracefully

aesthetic function that the head performs: bearing

eyes and nose and mouth and ears like courtesans

and peers in royal realms care for the priceless riches

of the queen and king. Fred says Ed, and Ed says Fred,

know just what wonders that a head can bring and frame

and highlight, offer up to the delight of an Elite’s

discerning sight. When Fred and Ed are dead, they

want their heads embalmed and set upon supporting

necks as statuary to be shown to a selected few. They’re

asking that we pass one of their lovely hats on Sundays

down each pew of every posh ecclesiastically elegant

historic edifice we know for the collection of the aid

which will enable undertaking this important undertaking

when the undertaker undertakes to take them at the end.

They want a special kind of sympathetic friend – the sort

who are the who the Who’s Who thinks of irrefutably as Who.

This made me think of you.

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