They Are Still Men, After All

I gaze at the brilliant full moon.

The same one, I think to myself, at which Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato gazed. Suddenly, I imagine they appear beside me.

I tell Socrates about the national debate over one's right to die and wonder at the constancy of the human condition.

I tell Plato that I live in the country that has come closest to Utopia and I show him a copy of the Constitution.

I tell Aristotle that we have found many more than four basic elements and I show him a periodic table.

Then I get a box of kitchen matches and strike one.

They gasp with wonder.

We spend the rest of the night lighting farts.