Holding candles and charms, I approach.
Police form double rows around the square and link arms
to tighten the cordon.
We pummel each other.

They teach me about children
with soap bubbles: grasping,
they pop them.

We flare and subside
in short bursts, marring
swirling parades and fireworks.

Is it a contest better left than fought?
I take one step.