Retreat

I want to be my own utopia:
Today, walking about the pale afternoon sun,
Yesterday, letting rain shadows pass my face,
When I was young, falling asleep in
My mother’s car, letting my vision fill with gold
And music.

When we walk along sidewalks,
Every lightpole seems to take a step back.
Sunlight creeping toward the distant buildings,
Consuming and blinding white,
Fleeing my footsteps, like ships on tumbling waves:
‘bore endlessly back into the sea.’