The bubble blower A woman (city fixture) grows bubbles the size of a living room in a town square they pop a mile away // a man shuffles by on his Sunday walks he watches the space of her tank top as she bends over a bucket of soap he dreams of her face floating close he speaks in words she’ll never know // every face around her weightless lifts off floats past café awnings and rooftops the man winks a soapy eyelid before becoming nothing everyone is happy // everyone is clapping // everyone loves the cobblestones they stand on and the hands of the woman extending an orb the size of the city she licks her lips and clips the edge the bulb lifts high / bursts /
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