"Do I know you?"

That's what she asked

a telephone pole.

She stood in front of it staring

like she expected an answer.

I was walking down Congress Street

when I beheld this odd interchange

between animate existence and inanimate.

She then went to a light post

and asked the same question.

"Do I know you?"

She didn't notice that

I had noticed her.

Maybe she was

rehearsing for something.

There was someone she needed to ask,

"Do I know you?"

She was practicing by asking

telephone poles and

light posts

and now a stop sign.

"Do I know you?" she asked the four white letters on a red background.

I stared at her staring at the sign waiting for an answer.

I wanted to stop and ask her for what reason she was rehearsing that line,

"Do I know you?"

But I walked on.

Later that day I saw her at a Starbucks.

I almost wanted to go up to her and ask her "Do I know you?"

but then I decided I didn't want to make fun of her.

I got a latte and waited,

waited to see if whoever she hoped

to ask that question would come in.

She just sat there with a latte.

I got tired of waiting

and left.