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Drifting away
by Eric Poor

I long to be lost in smoke on water
Drifting a canoe instead of
Doing things I ought to.

Slipping through shapes that twist and shift
To be absorbed and released and slide
Through sculptures made of wind.

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.