Drops

Drops

The first drop is numbing,
Cold for a minute,
Sensual like a finger,
Over unfamiliar skin,.
The second drop eclipses,
The first like a rocket,
As it takes a new path,
A trajectory like no other.
But the third drop lingers,
As if undecided,
Then quickly judging
   the other two,
With disdain and a childish
   arrogance.
But the rebel is the fourth drop,
Because she knows the others,
She is the sum total of the yeas,
Of the nays,
Of the heys,
Because she doesn't give a damn.