for Michael
And now, years later
another bubblemaker
—calls
himself the Bubble Gique—
stands downtown at his favorite spot
corner of Pacific & Walnut
on
people-promenading weekend evenings
in his black tee & black beret,
a black 5-gallon bucket
on the curb cement
filled with enough soapy solution
for hours
of entertainment-making/
keep
them coming attention-getting,
with two long stripped down twigs,
a long, long shoe lace loop
attached,
which
into the bucket he dips
& slowly, skillfully, waves
like choreographed wands
producing huge moment-to-moment
shifting
amorphous shapes
that float away
like transparent slow-motion
asteroid rock
that
instantly collapse to droplets
or hit cars
or slowly come at you,
their
surfaces iridescent hypnotic-gleaming
suddenly encompassing
your whole vision.
People gather round in fascination,
who knows what young girls imagine;
dollars are slipped
into a small white bucket—
& you step
away before an asteroid makes impact.
1998