When I close my eyes I can still feel the swaying.
Side to side, back and forth,
constantly tilting one way or the other.
My mind is still standing on sea legs.

It's funny how much faster we adapt on the outside.

When I first stepped on that boat,
I didn't know where my point B was exactly.
Only that my point A was a place I couldn't handle anymore.
So I took on the sun and salt.
Before long my skin was a cocoa bean.
My hair waved with the water.
My fingers and toes grew calloused but quick.
I'd traded in "street rat" for "sea urchin".

You could see for miles on that floating piece of heaven.

Something happened out there, though I'm not sure what.
I didn't get off at the first dock. Or the second, or the third.
I'd lost count after awhile. The sea was my home.
I could fill a night with talks of trade winds.
I thought I'd made a home out of misfits and maps.

My mind hasn't quite caught up yet.

It doesn't understand why I left.
One day we stopped, and I just started walking.
Sand, grass, and dirt replacing soft worn wood.
The forest draped down around me in an eerie green embrace.

I knew there was no turning back.

I still have skin like cocoa beans, though it very rarely burns.
My hair still waves like the beautiful pacific,
but it's become decorated with flowers and leaves.
My hands and feet remain calloused,
but now they are stained with berry juice, and tree sap.

Digging my toes into the earth, I wait for my mind to meet up with me.