The Bubble
by Leila Currah
I live in a bubble
just like you
the bubble
the perfectly circular bubble
the nerve-racking,
the worrying,
the dispiriting,
the sad and piteous,
pretentious,
perfectly circular bubble
read the question carefully
choose the best answer
and fill in the bubble
it should say
and fill in the piteous,
pretentious,
perfectly circular bubble
not to say
I have not relished
in filling in the perfectly circular bubble
with maximum precision,
with knowing certainty
the answer is d
all of the above
god rest this bubble’s soul
how many bubbles have come and gone?
ashes scattered over the pages
in notebooks,
in packets,
on single pieces of what once was perfectly good paper
and so many bubbles unfilled
it’s these bubbles that fill my mind
these empty bubbles
if only I could collect them
and free their letters forever
the a’s, and the b’s, and the c’s and the d’s
I’d put them to good use
I’d put them back into words,
into my own words
into my own colors
in buckets of paint
azure
black
crimson
and dusty rose
then I’ll paint the walls
of this perfectly
circular bubble
and make it a funky, colorful, harmonious,
bubblified home
Leila Currah now lives freely in her bubble.
