We Are Talking

We don’t know how, exactly.
No one really ever does.
What a partnership this is—

All of us ventriloquists
And every one a dummy.
Not one of us in this poem

Was born here, and had we been
We’d only be that much less
Real than we already are.

But nonetheless, we’re talking
Here, at least if you’re helping,
And, if you’re helping, you’re us,

And we’re you, too. It’s pleasant,
No? To be talking like this,
Us, all these words that you know,

And you who we only know
Based on how we’ve been patterned
By generations of you.

It’s pleasant, to chat a bit,
To share this nature with you.
Clouds fly. May we stay with you?