as I fly past the remaining exits, I begin to feel a sweet, deep-breath calm. Calm, yes, almost serene, but there’s a  a kind of edginess, too, a dream-like sense that

whatever I see wrapped in this improbable light–which would be everything–is both timeless and tentative, in transition, subject to change.  Out here, at the very end

of this loose end of the earth, all things seem possible, and I sometimes get the feeling that, if its moorings were loosed and the winds were high enough, Long Island,

(withShelterIslandstill tangled in its fish tail), could be pushed out into the open sea and, in a microcosmic illustration of continental drift, eventually end up bumping

intoEngland, maybe.  I wonder what the residents ofNassauCountywould  say about that.

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