Exploding Head / God

I'm at Chris' house one starless night

And I pour myself a beer

Straight into the middle of the glass.

 

I watch the gas bubbles grasp onto their surface tensions,

Holding onto themselves in an angry froth

As if desperate to exist

Piling up, gathering up, upon each other,

Building up to almost breach the brim of the glass;

Tall as the glass is.

 

The head reaches a zenith only when I stop pouring,

Holds itself for a few seconds,

Then starts the process of collapse.

 

I gaze down from above it,

Watching the tiny CO2 explosions.

Bubbles weaken and explode;

Brief centers of violence

Leaving holes in the structure.

 

I look down on the little spheres of gas

Surrendering itself to the air

One after another, upon each other.

 

The head descends with each capitulation.

Numbers diminish.

 

Existence therein contained

Drops down to the liquid below,

Surface tension settles into the pool of beer;

Gas having escaped into the stability of air,

Liquid settling into the nest of gravity.

 

I drink my beer then.

 

I don't like the carbonation.