you, sir

you, Sir,
are you the costume you wear?

and the reply is always
"no, dear maid, no."

I haven't quite ever
turned into this suit of clothes
nor the hat upon my head,
nor the shoes--
though there are many--

nor the title--
not Mr. or Mrs. or Ms
or Dr. or sister

nor the paper upon my wall--
not even the one that says I
was "born".

what does it say
but some numbers
and names?

but who can name what
never was
before?

without a clue?

on one's first breath?

upon "arrival"
and perhaps not even that,
for I haven't yet
any kind of hat.

perhaps not a thing
at all,
nor the space between,

perhaps the Unknown,
no mind can digest nor dissect,
not that, not that, not that

not that.