The Boat

The bed, on Saturday, was like a skiff out at sea. The waves, on occasion, splashed over the starboard and would wildly rock the boat. Most of the night, it was a safe and gentle journey.
It was when we left the boat, at the Port or Distractions, with the buzzing, popping and the interjected disruptions, our journey drifted off course. Did we get off at the wrong port? Was the port too wild; untamed? Did we have an itinerary?
“What do you want to do?”
“We could do this or that”.
“Do you want to do this?”
“Maybe. But what about that?”
“Yeah that would be ok”
“Are you ok?”
“Yes, I am fine. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine too”
“Want to get back on the boat?”
The only safe place in the world that night was on the boat? It was “our” vessel on an odyssey, a loving voyage.
Oh, to never leave the boat again.