Soap bubbles

Watching the mannequins at a shop window,
their expectant eyes tethered to routine reveries,
I notice a monotony in their smile.

You told me
smiles and daydreams are soap bubbles,
iridescent and fragile, capable of making you
unaware for a while

of the darkness that lingers
at the corner of your eye.

I observe the wide grins
of inert human forms
placed behind clean glasses, and realize

that my existence resembles that of
dummy sitters; each single day imply
progress of identical shadows...

A bubble-maker churns out soft globes
in a flurry; dream-planets keep fading
into the universe