[21] "Introduction to Philosophy"

Introduction to Philosophy

By Deidre Price

I keep ink in a vat by my bed.

You might call it a well,

maybe an ink receptacle,

a squatty jar even,

but then you'd miss out

on the smallish detail

that my brain resides there.

Yes, my whole bloody head

lives in the ink vat

that sits, unremarkably,

on a light wooden TV tray,

my makeshift nightstand,

alongside empty baby books,

and at least seven slung off necklaces.

Purposefully, I keep the vat close by.

It's not that anyone might steal it.

We live in an unsuspecting 3/2

that passes for middle class.

No one would know that my brain is here,

working away in a glassy black vat

beside a too-long borrowed Dave Ramsey book.

I mostly keep it close by

so that it doesn't wander off while I'm dreaming.

I've always been bad with putting retainers in before bed,

but I'm revival religious about removing my head.

It needs a rest as much as I do.

I respect it with a respite,

as I walk away, bare and alive, into my dreams.

But my brain is a colicky newborn,

a lonely and bored toddler,

a loud, thirsty child,

a sexed up teenager out past his curfew.

It's an alarm clock battling Tourrette’s,

a bad mattress,

a jumpy criminal on the lam.

I have screwed a top on the vat,

but my brain bruises when it hits the lid,

and the noises keep me up at night.

I've given up and given in,

getting up to nurse her every two hours,

tucking him in again,

walking her into the kitchen for water,

letting him try to knock up the whole neighborhood,

hitting the snooze more times than she deserves,

adding some bubble wrap,

but nothing works.

I am left with turning myself in.