One Page #24

Their home was powered by brilliant blue sails that puffed into the wind and blew them out across the seas toward the new world unexplored and uncharted. New waters promised new hope that would carry them into the newly unexpected. Turnips and porcupines and scratched porcelain bowls and shards of glass in blues and greens and browns littered the deck that was shaded by the billowing sail but speckled with light that bounced off the glass lanterns that swung back and forth, back and forth. One misstep led to a spill into the silky black waters and so they walked carefully down the deck, holding the railing that had splinters that broke off and stuck into the fingertips. The waves were lapping gently against the walls that had circular portholes and pictures of trains and forests and long winding staircases. The air was smoky from the grill that cooked dinner, fish they had caught earlier. They saw a dolphin leap through the air and a school of sardines race by as one unit, so comfortable together but strangers to each other. The sky was fading into purple and orange and the sails caught the light and trembled in the breeze. The mast creaked and the floors creaked and tilted gently from side to side. They flopped about in their sandals; flip flop against the polished deck. Their cat crawled sneakily around the open door that swung in the breeze, hinges also creaking, door rocking methodically. They saw seagulls cawing and ravens leftover from dreams years ago and a saber tooth tiger and even a Viking with a pointed-horned hat and silver chest plates that caught the glint of the sun that was just disappearing under the horizon, sinking so liquidly into a melted puddle of colors mingling. They saw cliffs, but only in their imaginations, dreaming of land and solidarity and trees that shaded them from the brightness, and beaches that left sand in every crevice of their bodies and bananas ripe and falling from the trees into their laps where bowls of yogurt sat just waiting for the tender fruit so sweet, almost caramelized from the sun. But land was many miles behind them and in front, since they were always moving forward, there was only water littered with sparkling diamonds and bubbles of white in the choppy air. Shorts were to revealing now and hats were no longer needed and they settled into the cabin with goblets of brandy because that was all they had left and they ate grilled fish, picking out the bones from between their teeth and crackers that were soggy and limp and no longer crunched but smooshed. One smelled lavender and the other smelled chamomile and they both thought of bricks piled into walls and roofs that housed chimneys with smoke billowing.