I wondered one recent day…what do I know, really know?
And had to admit: not much. Less every day.
That’s the kind of thing you wonder when you’ve had a drink at the end of a long week, when you don’t know if you have friends you can count on.
Then when the lights dim and the worm turns, the doubt creeps in:
Has it all been worth it?
So I had that drink. And then a few more. As you’d imagine, it wasn’t easy to do, writing this all down. The letters go all blurry at times.
But. I was clever, see.
I decided to come at it the other way ’round and do the easy list first.
- I don’t know whether I’m the kind of person my dog thinks I am.
- I don’t know how the color red smells.
- I don’t know if Neverland ever was, and never, ever will.
- I still don’t know why Justin Bieber is popular. At all.
- I don’t know how to use ‘who’ or ‘whom’ most of the time (if anyone still cares).
- I don’t know what anything really feels like to another. (Can’t. No one can. And that’s a damned shame.)
- I don’t know what a Russian is going to do any day, but particularly in Ukraine.
- I don’t usually know when I’m lying to myself, let alone you.
- I don’t know if Oswald acted alone.
- And I don’t know how they get the fizz in a can of soda.
I do know one thing: Mama Cass didn’t choke on a ham sandwich, or die from a drug overdose.
So that’s something, at least. Not a lot, but something.
What’s on your list?