What’s inside of you, I can only guess
And my guess is foul plenty
Who I am, you can only assume
Hard to predict… there is no map
You are a lake, calm
and I thought your deep waters would make me drown
And I am an ocean, turbulent
and you thought my tide would throw you out
Aware that it is living
The observer, the observed
Walking heads with question marks
Who are you? Where am I?
What good are questions?
What we know
Is that we don’t.
By tuttysan © 2007
What we know. A poem. Photo: Des Plaines River at Historic Riverside, IL.