Third Space of Bubbles

The air is soft as cotton
brushing against my face
Like silk, it glides over my arm.
Night time conversing
under an infinite ceiling
three cups of coffee
one cup of tea
a conversation is brewing
each of us adding ingredients
but my mind is floats away
and lands on a bubble
delicate and transparent.
Suspended, there inside
are people that I know
(or at least wished I did)
I am the centre of attention
simply because I am intruiging.
It’s perfect and untrue
but tangible nonetheless.
I feel its structure falter
and I fear that if I breathe
it will all float away
and burst.
It has become detached
and gravity has surrendered its grasp
on the world of a dreamer.
I watch it drift away and it is only when
a mosquito’s bite calls my attention
that I see a transparent glaze is surrounding the present.