Bubbles

The bubbles burst and sing a song of jealousy to me,
a song of injustice.
My cup overflows and I let it drip through the cracks in the table.
I leave the room and the bubbles sing into the carpet.

While it lasts, I will love your pride, performance and drunkenness.
Your happiness is more important than injustice.

I am ashamed.
I am normal in my own way.
I do not invade privacy,
I pay attention,
And I receive none in return.

Old people like me.
They warm to me.
They never fall through the cracks like wine and songs.
Old folks make time for those without pride.

The canvases stretch into infinity and into the past.
They are controlled and they control me -
So I push them into the cracks, too.

They don't fit.  There are too many.

So I leave the room.

And while it lasts, I will love your falsehoods, your pride, performance and drunkenness,
Because your happiness is more valuable than injustice.

But I will always leave early.