I wonder if a finite heart can yearn infinitely?
I suppose when you see someone you like, and you don’t know them, you fill in the spaces with what you hope to find. Of course, you can make reasonable assumptions. For example, she was walking when I saw her, so she must enjoy going for long walks. And she was looking around, so she must like to sit and look at things. And of course, everybody likes pumpkin pie, and whipped cream, because everything’s better with whipped cream. I wonder if she likes to watch the ducks? This much is certain… she’s an attentive, pumpkin-pie eating donkey, who loves long walks, probably watches the ducks, and thinks everything is better with whipped cream. She also appeared to be simple, but intelligent, and unhurried and content—I think I detected a bounce in her step—and she was clearly enjoying the grass beneath her hooves. I wonder if she likes music? I wonder if she plays an instrument? Maybe she plays the trombone. If she plays the trombone we could play duets together, and travel the world earning our passage from place to place. I wonder what her favorite music is? It’s probably Für Elise. I wonder if that’s her name? Elise? Or Eliza? Or Liza? Or Lizzy? Yes, Lizzy is less pretentious. Hmm, I wonder what she reads? I wonder if she reads Shakespeare? Maybe she’ll join our barnyard company. Then we could stage “Twelfth Night,” and she’d be Viola and I’d be the Duke, and after many mishaps we would live happily ever after.
Wow! thought Blurtso. Hollywood! I can hardly wait to see Mr. Ed! I wonder where he is? Let’s see… the sun is setting, so I think I’ll try Sunset Boulevard. And off he went, up and down the street, clippety cloppeting, cloppety clippeting, forth and back and back and forth, looking for Mister Ed. I’m tired, said Blurtso after several hours of searching. I think I’ll take a nap.
Hello, said a policeman. Hello, said Blurtso. May I ask what you’re doing? I’m napping on the grass, said Blurtso. It’s against the law to nap on the grass. Really? said Blurtso. Really, said the officer. O.k., said Blurtso, I’ll find another place. And off he went, up and down the street, clippety cloppeting, cloppety clippeting, forth and back and back and forth, looking for a new place to nap. Eventually he returned to where he started. Hmmm, he thought, watching the cars arrive, park, and drive away… I know what I’ll do! I’ll nap in the street! And when the next parking space opened, Blurtso grabbed it. Ahhhh, that’s just perfect, he thought, resting his street-heavy hooves.
Hello, said the policeman. Hello, said Blurtso. May I ask what you’re doing? I’m napping in my parking space, said Blurtso. Your parking space? said the officer. Yes, said Blurtso. But you haven’t put any money in the meter. Money?said Blurtso. Yes, said the officer, $5.00 per hour per vehicle. Am I a vehicle? said Blurtso. No, said the officer, I suppose not. So I can stay? said Blurtso. Yes, said the officer, I suppose so. Thank you, said Blurtso. You’re welcome, said the officer. And so it was, after four days on the train and another day in the hills of Hollywood, that Blurtso lay down in his parking space and slipped, as the sun set slowly on West Sunset Boulevard, into a deep and dreamless sleep.
The more you look at ants, the more they look like water… flowing here, flowing there, encountering an obstruction, flowing around it, flowing over it, or carrying it with them as they flow along. And just like too much of anything, if there are too many, they carry away everything in sight, until there is nothing left for others, and nothing left for themselves.