the fish winked as i gutted it in the field

sometimes i blow bubbles on the weekend

i go to the circle with the fountain where children play

i blow the bubbles and feel alone

each bubble a prison of my breath

drifting away

some bubbles crash at my feet

others make it 10 or 20 feet into the agnostic hands

of a gleeful child

the few rise up to the blue sky

out of my sight

but i know they will not escape rupture

each bubble i create reminds me i am not a bubble

but a god of bubbles

and gods are alone

by definition

if you are ever in southern california

and want to blow bubbles with me

shoot me an email

and we can act like gods together