“Two old maids sittin’ in the sand, each one wishing the other was a man” —Black Eyed Susie old folk song
As I was lounging on a beach alone,
a small commercial cove not made for swimming,
I noticed, in my daydreaming, aircraft flying overhead
and wondered where this or that one was going,
determining as best I could the flight direction,
as I lay near Boston, on Salem, Massachusetts, sands.
My farthest trip was ten hours to Hungary.
I hate to fly. A vacation to Hawaii
is considered a grand thing, but to spend
all that time trapped in an airplane!
What’s wrong with my little beach here?
Then I was struck with a marvelous dilemma,
and forgot vacations and myself. I calmed down
and I was already delightfully calm.
I thought: if one can fly in a tin can far around the world in 10 hours,
does this indicate the planet is small?
Yes. Only 10 hours? The planet is small.
But then I thought. No. If a plane flying that fast takes tens hours to get to Hungary,
this means the planet we live on is big.
I found it delicious to think I was dealing with pure fact
In trying to know the simplest fact of all:
How easy. Is something big or small?
It is impossible to know this.
I know why factual arguments fail.
I closed my eyes. With good and bad as guides,
I continue to tell my tale.