Now I rebel.

Now the inner scream.

But no, I am not unhappy.

 

I am just hanging over the side of a great pool,

Reaching my arm in, up to the shoulder.

I can smell the surface—not water, but words—

And I see my reflection, undulating.

I could fall in, and maybe I will!

 

So, rebellion—explain?

Well, considering that I am feeling happy,

And alive,

I suppose it is rebellion

Against the thought that anything in the world is wrong.

 

I have been marching in the wrong army,

And I defect.

 

They’ll never catch me.

I’ve become invisible.