I long to be lost in smoke from water
drifting a canoe instead of
doing things I ought to.
Slipping through shapes that twist and shift
I could be absorbed and released to slide
through sculptures made of wind.
I would escape there just yards away
from shrouded shores
chores and responsibilities.
And searching in the thickest, all closed off,
paddle poised midair,
sun rising somewhere,
I might just look ahead and see
the shadow
of what is me.