Talking Heads

Another Saturday and all we could expect

was rain so we got in the car and drove out

to a museum that just opened on Route 13.

It was called the Head Museum and it was

supposed to be good family fun. You go in

and find yourself in a room where every

inch of the walls from floor to ceiling is

covered with the heads of action figures

and dolls: there's the Hulk; there's Snake

Eyes; there's the many shades of Barbie.

In another room are the hydraulic heads

of extinct animals; the moa looks fearsome

but is actually herbivorous; an alligator

and crocodile from the Late Cretaceous 

bellow at each other and go into a death

roll before backing off and closing their 

mouths with a hiss. You have to push

the button to see it all again. (My son

was in that room for a while.) We didn't

go into the Killing Fields room because

of the warning sign, but I snuck a peak

and saw Pol Pot's head turning away

as the skulls begin to pile up. Creepiest

of all is a room where your own body

seems to melt away and you see yourself 

and your loved ones as just heads

suspended above the floor with bulging

eyes and mouths that open and close

like the animatronic exhibits elsewhere.

It's hard to shake that feeling even when

you're back in the car driving through 

the rain struggling to find something

to say about the experience.