Nautical

I want to own on a boat.
Or, at least sail on one sold
to a close companion,
a friend.

I want to live on a boat out amongst
sloshing waves, tremendous
tides, and directional winds—
ones to

carry me where I need to be.
Where do I need to be if I am
on my boat, far from land-locked
regrets?

I want to tie a sailor’s knot,
bask amongst gulls of the sea
who pay no mind, who give
no thought.

I want to shout AHOY!
at the top of my salt-crusted
lungs and declare knowledge of the
starboard,

leeward, and windward sides
in accordance with the aft,
bow, and port. I want to befriend
a whale,

a turtle, maybe a sting ray
out there in the deep blue;
spill my thoughts to them and drink
their stories.

I want to own a boat without
anyone telling me no or
asking why. My friends would be
mortified

to know I’d packed it all up,
sold the rest, and left my desk to grow
old and alone, out at sea on
my boat.

 

—N.A.

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