Tiny Bubbles/Tiny Tears

The text message arrived
As we watched the tiny dancers,
Half-pints who hula,
Sparkling cuteness
Swaying hipless-
And sometimes in harmony-
To scratchy music
Onstage surrounded
By parents proud and corn dogs delectable,
Baby ducks and bunnies and the mechanical bull just next door.

“Old acquaintance, high school years, Facebook friendly, arrested: wife strangled!”

And abruptly
The music darkens,
Discordant rhythms
Assault swaying serenity
As I strain
To see a future
For these giggling, awkward menihunis–
Happy ever after
As the storybooks vow?
Or stretched early on a slab,
Victim of life’s pitfalls,
And love gone bad?

Was the wife once herself
A tiny dancer,
Braving the stage
Hair pinned up,
Rouge and lipstick,
Trembling at the crowd,
But happy to hula
As a step toward life-
Stretching out bright before her?

Who knows
What little minds think,
Staring out at families
With smiles, cameras, applause?

Can any of them fathom
That Prince Charming —
Of whom they already dream-
Might one day encircle their neck
With his loving hands,
Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing
Until dreams,
Whether mundane or glorious,
Depart?

Aloha!

Bruce Roberts is a poet and ongoing contributor to Synchronized Chaos Magazine. Roberts may be reached by at brobe60491@sbcglobal.net.