Bubble Burster

I am a bubble burster,
my finger pointed into you.
Quiet talk of you and others,
pushes you from who to whom.
I grasp your tail with white fists
and snap it out into a thread
grown fainter, longer. Weak.

You, a dry and whetted wick,
fuel evaporated in radiant smiles,
rest, cupped by my soft hand.
Held upright with a kind word
I restore your normal body
with the magic of faint praise.
I am bigger, deeper. Strong.

Yet, stood; alone, tuneless
fluorescent lights cast me down.
I shrink into a hollow star,
my five shadows crouching,
each devouring its share.
Their backs turned to me
grown fainter, longer. Weak.

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Real Life

Off-line is so empty.
The sound of bills
slapping on broken tile
echo emptiness over
the perpetual motion of
a single low decibel fan.
As if worried into movement
the fridge clicks,
shuddering with the.
unaccustomed effort
of cooling a slice of
yesterdays pizza.
Its unhappy motor
ejects a din that
smoothers all but
the most insane thoughts.
Outside a gunshot rings out,
its sound-wave cracks,
forcing a moment of
un-requested reality
into the room.
Unrestrained it also
wakes a tiresome dog
that exists only
physically chained
down in the street.

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