Things I do not know

I do not know what color really is
I do not know the capital of Kazakhstan or the precise way to describe how the sky looks on any given day
I do not know who made this pen.
I do not know who has touched this notebook before me
I do not know how I will die or why people die or if I even know what dying is.
I do know that I will die.
I do not know how there are people who still claim that the Holocaust did not happen.
I do not know how carrying a poster against the war will help end the war or why there even is a war or how someone can kill another.
I do not know where my sunglasses are.
I do not know the name of my mail carrier or the chancellor of Austria or how many Cheerios are in a box.
I do not know what it feels like to live in a desert.
I do not know what my life would be like without you in it.
I do not know how to read Hebrew or Arabic or Japanese.
I do not know why people would have voted for Bush, twice!
I do not know how men can hit their wives or children can hate their siblings.
I do not know what I will be doing next year or the texture of that shirt you used to wear or how long I could write before my hand would collapse on the page.
I do not know what it's like to be stupid or destitute or blind or greedy or in love with a stripper.
I do not know how trees perceive the world.
I do not know why there is suffering.
I do not know what cream cheese and pumpernickel bread would taste like.