What begins as a seemingly random question—”Why are there bubbles?”—unfolds into a playful love poem disguised as philosophical musing. The speaker catalogs bubbles in all their forms: little and big, from pipes and wands, rainbows and secrets contained within their fragile spheres. But the real subject emerges gradually—the beloved, whose “bubbly enjoyment” and effervescent presence inspire the meditation. Bubbles become stand-ins for laughter, thoughts, expressions of love, and the delicate beauty of shared moments. The poem culminates in a charmingly irreverent confession: this entire bubbly reverie arose while the poet was “taking a piss and making bubbles.” It’s classic David Plahm—finding the profound in the profane, celebrating his muse through an everyday occurrence, and raising a champagne toast to “fellow Bubblies” everywhere. The piece demonstrates how poetry can emerge from anywhere, anytime, if we remain open to wonder.

This poem embodies the playful, unguarded spirit that defines much of David Plahm’s work. Its charm lies in its refusal to take itself too seriously while still delivering genuine moments of tenderness—the muse as a “universal bubble holding all of life’s beauty” is a lovely image that earns its sentiment. The repetitive structure (bubbles that…, bubbles from…, bubbles of…) creates an incantatory rhythm that mirrors the mesmerizing quality of watching actual bubbles float and pop. The comedic reveal of the poem’s bathroom origins is quintessentially Plahm—deflating any pretension while celebrating the democratized nature of inspiration. Where the poem occasionally loses momentum is in its middle sections, where the catalog of bubble variations can feel more like list-making than lyric. Still, the closing champagne toast and the genuine warmth toward the muse make this a bubbly, effervescent read—exactly as intended.