A sailboat adrift
and not enough fuel for the motor
to ever power its way back to shore.
What I’m saying is you can call me unmoored.
Call me lost.
Call me unreachable
because when you call, I may not pick up the phone–
too far from civilization
for the towers to reach.
I’m busy trying to find a space to call my own.
I had no luck on land.
Too many other organisms
taking up space.
I’d say “excuse me” to the trees,
“Pardon” to the brush.
I was inconvenience incarnate.
But seeing the swaths of blue beyond me
in every direction, I consider that
maybe ocean will be my home,
since the wind and waves need no apologies from me.
This azure expanse will be mine,
and I will be his.
We will exist together,