Wishes of a mind lost at sea

     I wish I were on a boat right now.  A boat lost at sea.  Drifting along a northbound current.  I would run my hands through the water as jellyfish float along and mermaids skim by, darting under my boat and criss-crossing through the water.  Pelicans would fly to me and bring news of my friends--glass bottles containing precious letters held safely inside their stretchy beaks.  I would catch flashy tropical fish for lunch and dinner.  Breakfast would be biscuits from the store of food I brought with me for the journey.  It's a never-ending supply of biscuits--which can get old after a while, actually.  I would made coffee for myself.  Stiff, dark, bitter coffee.  I love it.  The sea air would wrinkle my skin and bleach my hair, but I wouldn't care.  No one would ever see me again.  Until I found an island.  My island.  There I would find my true home.  Someone will be waiting for me there.  We'll be happy.  Together.  We'll start a life.  It'll be good.  But this is all wishes on a day when my mind is lost at sea.