Do I Know You

Do I know you? 
No. 
You don’t know me. 
How can you when I don’t know myself? 

You know 
that I’m wearing glasses 
and have a pimple on my cheek.  
You know 
that I smile at the end of your sentences 
but don’t know that I’m not really listening, 
only hearing your 
pauses.  
You know 
that I give a thumbs-up 
when you approve of something you just said 
that you thought 
was profound, 
but you don’t know 
that I was just following your lead.  

You don’t know 
how much I hate parties 
because of the social pressure 
of trying to connect with someone
through all the noise 
and provide the right social cues 
based on what I’m observing and not 
what I’m learning about you since small talk 
holds no substance.  

You don’t know 
that while I nod at your empty statements, 
I’m looking to escape 
around that corner 
or down that 
hallway 
or during your sigh.  
But most importantly, you don’t know 
how much I long to know you, but in some other place, 
a quieter, softer place, a place less pretentious outside this speed-dating 
venue.  

You don’t know 
that I’d love to know you 
so that I can better know myself.  

You ask, ‘Should we get together again?’ 
And I say, ‘Why?’ 
You shrug, 
your smile crooked 
and unsure. ‘I want to know you better.’ 
I smile. 
Nod. 
Say, ‘So do I,’ 
and wonder if you know 
who I’m talking about.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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