Three Hour Tour

All I can smell is elephant garlic.

We are rolling over average waves.

Tiny spits of surf flying up to

sprinkle our cheeks.

I stick my fingers in my ears,

to see if beautiful sites possess

a separate beauty when they

can't be heard.

There are baseballs flying

past my head,

and suddenly a radio

turns on and declares that

Joe Biden won the election.

I lay on the hot, wet deck.

I am wearing someone else's

clothes.

I have nowhere to be except

with you.

I am thirsty for a drink,

for your hands,

for a grasp on where we

are going.

The sun stains my cheeks.

This captainless ship is

on a steady mission,

and all I see is water.

Things change color and

I realize this is not reality.

My body is heavy,

and I can't wake up.