I think that you must think I say too much
and you so little say that what is true
has clues so few that I invent the stuff
that leaves me saying, Is it really you?

I have imagined all the good and bad
and often think that I could be set free
by knowing what will make you glad or sad
but then I wonder, Is it really me.

I am struck dumb when we are face to face
and questions fade from mind as we discuss
the here and now and know the last embrace
will be a question, Is it really us?

The you, the me, the us, the unseen seen,
all only raise more doubts if meanings mean?
- Robert Stone