The Bubble Man

The bubble man came to town
Waistcoat of red, white cap
Yellow bucket of suds,
Long rod in each hand
A cord looped between.

He dunks the cord into the suds
Then, like a praying mantis
Lifts the dripping loop
Above his head
And slowly parts it
To make a rainbowed bubble
That lolls in the air like a baby whale.

Gently he shakes it free.
It wallows drunkenly in the breeze,
An air-mirror of our upturned faces.

Children jump to burst it
It collapses in a drizzle of suds
How can a beautiful empty nothing,
A spectacular size, be so vulnerable?