Bubble

When you live inside a bubble
the archway of the stars
becomes the pattern of the ceiling.

The edges of each tableleg
are softened with used teabags
that stain the carpet mahogany brown,
and the stain lingers perpetually.

like damp hair,
you rest and shine

Food-wise, you eat only puddings.

be sure to take with you
the scent of your friends,
these can be imagined
then the smell will never leave you.

you eat quietly,
and when you sleep
breathe through your nostrils.

you’ll be asleep
most of the time
and become proficient in dreaming.

9 thoughts on “Bubble

  1. I thought this would be a good companion piece to my previous post’s apparant delusions of grandeur 😉 I dislike “perpetually”, but I haven’t found a great alternative. “Forever”, perhaps.

    Endlessly – teabags. think of it logically. The edges of a tableleg might well proove to sharp for bubble-matter to withstand, so it follows that such edges need unsharpening.

    If The Hare lived in a bubble, not only would he be very damp, but he would also drink a lot of tea. Perhaps the bubble would infact be made of tea; The Hare knows a thing or two about whittling up storms in teacups.

    “No Room! no Room! no Room!”
    – Alice’s Adventures in The Ever-Paranoid British Tabloids

  2. What if you just removed perpetually and let it hang… and the stain lingers, the pause that follows in my head is like a stain.

    But, then everything is literal for me, and I was surprised that after such a short friend ship you would write a poem about me and my tendency to leave tea bags around the house, and of course my amazing dreaming skills.

    All except the scent, for it isn’t true, or maybe I’m just not creative enough, but scent is the one thing I can’t imagine, and it’s the one thing that really leaves.

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