They were tiny, these bubbles, <br />he'd called them infinitesimal, <br />though just to show some class, <br />soap tends to move with grace, <br />this was what drew his eyes <br />into a frozen stare, no blinking would <br />disturb the spectacle, the slow descent. <br />At first it left the joint anterior to the ear, <br />just on the outer edge of her first joint, <br />the temporomandibular, a nutty name, <br />it slid, due to the slope onto the SCM, <br />the sternocleidomastoid of the neck, <br />and, urged by movements of the pectorals <br />travelled across into the cleavage from above. <br />No bra was separating these and so they stayed <br />a little while, eventually dislodged by breaths, <br />and at a higher speed passed the small innie, <br />a cough propelled the foam into the thatch, <br />he wished he could have been there, just to catch.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soap-bubbles/
