without a parachute

When certain things happen, I know that I have to write about them. This was one of those moments. I haven't been inspired to write poetry in months. And I haven't thought anything productive in Physical Geography all semester. It was a win-win situation. Keep in mind this is a VERY rough draft-- almost straight from my mind, so the message isn't coming across as well as I would like. Enjoy, maybe I'll post the whole editing process.

I sit six rows back reading Poems from the Women's Movement
while you lecture, monotone and in the dark, slide 2 of 27,
about streams and stream systems.
Rill erosion. Splash erosion. Corrosion. Weathering.
Miscarriage. Father. Mother. Liberation. Change.
Deepening. Widening. Friction. Rejuvenation. 
Let's say we put Ms. Hill in a helicopter, you say.
I look up, Have you ever been in a helicopter, Ms. Hill?
No. Well, we'll send her over three thousand feet up,
and then drop her out.
With a parachute, someone in front of me says.
No, you say, without a parachute. You laugh.
What would you do, Ms. Hill?
Pull your knees up to your chin, scared? 
Become a ball and fall faster? No, 
I say, I'd fly. 
You laugh again. I go back to my poems.
Surface area. Tension. Contact.
Equality. Touch. Love. Feeling. History.
I hear you say my name once more, 
but I don't look up. I'm standing by my answer,
I don't need a parachute. I'll fly.