We've been floating for how long? Hours, but it no longer matters for the tourists we are and travelers we pretend to be. I make an attempt at assembling a sentence about an itinerary as remote as the pebbled rooftops and forgiving root path we took to reach the shore. We waved off our guide, who looked uncertain then splashed his way to us and climbed in to take over the steering wheel, his crooked smile as he did so reminding us we had no chance of finding our way back. We might just have been another pair of lost tourists, our sunburned smiles in a photo from an obliging waitress the last anyone would ever see of us.
You are so very clever! I can read two poems and one in the way you have indented your thoughts. It makes me want to play with how I place my own thoughts on white space.
Thank you, willjxn.