Utopia   We entered the gates in high spirits — oh, the end of our troubles! Or so we thought. At first it was nice enough — rows and rows of stately elms that looked almost real, hot showers when the plumbing worked, pony rides around the little park that had a little pool. The sandwiches were good, with sides of fries or coleslaw — your choice when they lit the torch on Freedom Day. The special robes were on back order, but with clothing optional and therapy for every phobia, what was there to fear? The bus? Fine, hop right on — no fare on Sundays.                                                  But we smelled a rat when the price of eggs shot sky-high and the pool turned green and the tower fell down one day and the birds began to die. Something wasn’t right, and soon the news broke: there’d been a change of plans due to a change in the weather — we weren’t in on the joke, and Utopia was starting to get strange.     © Michael Fleming Dummerston, Vermont January 2025