Slow Boat to Korea

I know that each boat waits for us 

    to hop in, 

    to bail out the water from last night's rain

    and ride, beating the next day's sun, 

        whispering to ourselves that one song.

            leave all your lovers weeping on the faraway shore

            out on the briny with the moon big and shiny            

Our spine resting

    against undulations

        — sound and touch — 

    throughout the inky night

        that covers us all, 

            like that one Kerouac line,

    blinking less to notice 

        when heaven reaches Earth,

            at least just for the time being,

we get taken back

to where we once were

    slowly. 

                                                            To Korea.

If and only if

we weren't stopped by our fear 

    of deep blue oceans and taking too much space

    and our genetic fates of

        speech disorders

        rhinitis

        and dementia.

Nights spent dreaming cast wonder

upon how long it will take for the dusky 

sea crests to scrape each star off

and become still, letting us find

our own portions under the Moon.