come with Us

“it’s only three monkeys singing songs, mate! “

—Bandit Heeler

leaving Italy with full hearts and a boat full of snacks.
Two adults pretending to know what we’re doing.
Three boys turning every rope into a swing,
every wave into a battle cry,
and every quiet moment into a wrestling match.

The catamaran is floating, mostly in the right direction.
Laundry dries in the wind, pasta boils at an angle,
and someone is always barefoot and sticky.

We’re not lost—we’re just not entirely sure where we’ll sleep tomorrow.
But we’re together, floating toward Australia,
with salt in our hair and chocolate in the nav station