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.