Under the Locust Street Bridge at midnight in the middle of the frozen Milwaukee River alone with a bottle of wine, the starry night sky twinkling on either side, Getting on my knees, kneeling on the snow, looking where the wind blew the snow away exposing the ice like a window, a window I can see through, A black window I can look through putting my face to its surface to ogle and be boggled by bubbles frozen at different levels in different shapes and sizes, white in color, suspended, motionless, And thinking the moment these bubbles froze wondering if anyone ever saw the moment a bubble froze, the moment an air globule gurgling and burbling on its upward rush caught solid in icy hold. What goes on in a frozen bubble? Does a frozen bubble believe it will still be a frozen bubble after it melts? Thought of when they melt, rising at last, freed. . . . Thought of people who drowned whose last bubble breaths froze midway, frozen last words waiting for spring and those who listen for them. . . . Thought of bubbles lasting millions of years in icecaps. . . . Thought of bubbles trapped in lava, dark air pockets in rock aeons. . . . Thought of bubbles rising from canoe paddles unstuck from swamp muck. . . . Bubbles in puddles created and destroyed by falling rain. . . . Bubbles with rainbows quivering at the base of waterfalls. . . . Hippopotamus fartbubbles big as hula hoops, frog fartbubbles small as a needle’s eye. . . . Thought of underwater spiders who struggle bubbles of air to their underwater webs to breathe from. . . . Thought of bubbles of thought in cartoons. . . . Thought of bubbles sparkling up bottles stared at by drunks for centuries. . . . Thought of carpenter observing bubble in his level as he adjusts the angle of a beam. . . . Thought of whales in love caressing each other with bubbles. . . . Thought of girls bobbling their baubles goggled by bubble-blowing boys. . . . Thought of babyblubbering hushed by motherbreast, bubble of milk on sleeping lips. . . . Thought of Imagination Bubble-wand dipped in solution strewing bubble flotillas on the breeze, different sizes and shapes of poems at different levels rising and frozen as they rise, mind-bubbles caught for a moment observed suspended in time floating, reflecting. . . . Thought how I’m only a bubble rising from birth to death changing my shape from child to man as I rise. . . . Thought of the Earth as a bubble, the Sun as a bubble, the Galaxies bubbles sparkling, flowing, bursting on the black river of space, on the black river of time. . . . Thought of the sound of a bubble’s pop. . . . Thought how many bubbles there have been. . . . Everpresent evanescent effervescence. Mind-boggled by bubbles I gaze with awe through black window ice Realizing bubbles frozen in ice as if I never saw them before, as if I never knew they existed, Bubbles frozen in ice, How I bent to look at them, How I crouched on my hands and knees on the snow And put my face to the ice and peered down at them motionless, suspended, a long time Milwaukee River New Year’s Eve 1984.