Bobbing

Bobbing

is about all we’re doing.

My sister and I lose the thread

of our conversation

as the old

J-scow we salvaged

from the back lot

of the boat works

drifts vaguely

towards home.

On another day

I might curse

the obstinate wind for its

abrupt drop

at the absolute

farthest point of our trip,

But with fine weather and good company

returning home may as well

take all day.