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Bubble Boy

I know a bubble boy,
I knew the boy before I got acquainted to his bubble.
He gave me a hug and smile
And then a bubble
And then another.
Now two bubbles rest on my shoulders,
Right above my collarbones-
Like wings of an angel that rest above my weary chest
They carefully balance those bubbles- but no,
There’ll be no space for another one
Because two’s just right and three’s testing my patience

I’d take a circle round one fragile bubble,
Run my fingertips down its slippery surface,
Then I’d take a piece of that bubble
The one with my name floating in it
But I’ll emboss that name to keep me there
To remind him-to remind me (you sent bubbles to my woozy nights)
And as I sleep, those bubbles sing a little tune
One that sounds as familiar as my cell with his name on its screen
When he returns, I’ll put a little song in his heart- with my smile leading its tune
He won’t be given my bubble; I won’t want it bursting in time.

Now those bubbles float around
They clothe me with optimism and what will I do with them?
I’ll poke it slowly, softly,
And thread it meticulously with my fingertips
Let it rest in my palm, gently, like a newborn child,
Like new-felt feelings
I won’t let it drift away
Till I do.

by Rifhan Miller

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