distance.

We put out two years ago

Our thatchety boat hobbled off with a sloppy slide

Saddled with gear and coats and bags of fruit

Anticipation nearly suffocating us

Silently we’d smile into the wind

As the trees, the shore, old friends

Grew smaller

Until they were nothing but a thin line.

Tasting a faint bit of salt on our tongues

I barely knew you and you did not know me,

Yet our hearts swelled with each rise and fall

Like children or Labradors we commandeered the bow

Hands clasped tight as the sun washed our faces

Finally on our way

to kiss the shore of some place unnamed

Two years ago.

And here we are.
Baptized in salt and sun and sea and sadness.

Anticipation has grown heavy and hope burrowed deep beneath

I didn’t plan on this slow arrival.

I did not think you would need anything.

So we pull our float to some shore not familiar.

I push and pull and fight

You hold my hips as you press your lips to my ear

You say you will not leave and you will not let me go

And so

Once more we meet the thick ocean swells

My hand in yours, we smile knowingly, faces darkened by the sun

And gaze readily the horizon.