June 9, 2026

on a cruise ship to the ends of the earth

The brochure says we will cover more than 450,000 miles. From the deck,
looking out at the blank expanse, I try to do the math. How long from here
to there? And where is there, exactly? The engine’s at a low hum. The water
barely churns. For whatever reason, I’m in a hurry. And so, because this is
a dream, I’m certain I could get there faster on my own and leap right
over the railing. Instantly, the backpack on my shoulders becomes dead weight.
The ocean floor is hard to walk on in boots. Above me, a shuffleboard match
is in full swing. The synchronous thumps of dubstep. A flash of disco balls
bounces on the waves, and my stomach’s rumbling for a dinner I forgot to pack.
The boat turns around. I clamber in. Wherever we’re going, it seems
to be saying, let’s not get there alone.