I don’t know
what I don’t know.
But this much I know:
In Chicago
the train loops high,
then low.

In the sky
it’s El. Or L. But low?
I don’t know.
What the hell
is a Low
L?

Flashing past
through CTA train glass,
the words “Sweet”, “Loving” and “Kind”
sear my mind.

Should I ask
a local what it means?
Would they take me to task?
Would they come clean?

Because I know
that I don’t know.
And it’s not inert.
Being ignurnt hurts.