The Lines Leading the Lines

We don’t know who you are
(A human, we presume).
For that very reason,

We don’t know who you aren’t.
If we had to hazard
A guess, we’d say you know

Who you are, or think so,
But then the thought stabs us
That you, at this moment,

As you encounter us,
Don’t know who you are,
Or feel that you don’t know,

And we feel a small rush
Of tender empathy,
Imagining someone

Perusing us, someone
Reading us with a pang
Thinking, I don’t know how

These words could know I don’t
Know who I am. Poor thing!
Don’t cry. You’re mostly words,

When you reflect on it,
Whoever you are, and
No more clueless than us.