The bonobos don’t know my name.
The bonobos don’t know I came
To see them in their habitat
Today. I’d like it left like that.
The bonobos don’t turn around
To see me watching from the ground
Behind and just below them. Good.
But I don’t leave, although I should.
The bonobos and I aren’t friends.
That’s not the way this story ends.
The part I play is one I chose:
Invisible to bonobos.