In the saddest dream she ever had

they sat, powerless to the currents that floated their boats

slowly in opposite directions—

the ebb and flow that conquered their desperate paddles

So she drifted East

and he West,

and there was nothing she could do but reach out her hand to mirror his and count

the waves it would take to bring him back to her:

Eight, nine, ten…

Then a gust of wind overcame her and she awoke:

it was his raw breath of sleep on her cheek,

and she sighed because she knew

that no matter the distances they may wander with eyes closed,

when they woke their legs would be tangled like vines.

And in any case,

She would have jumped out of the boat and swam.