I thought I had lost track of me, and that was bad enough.

Which me of me was I looking for?

Was that the me in the flowing flowered dress

Luring the gazes down the street,

Or the me alone with my creased skin, thinking back to  

A toy I lost at sea.

Me the brilliant one culling the word for the stranger to succeed,

Or the me left speechless

In the wake of the crass

Appreciation that empties me.

Is it the promising me

Or the failing me

The me with the shoes

Or the me without.

Is it the me with the infinite inside

That only I can see

Or the one who cannot find a way

To be.

Is it the me who laughs in the alleys

My magic stone in my pocket

Or the me who wishes to fly

Secretly from the height to the ground

Or to drown in a blood-filled pool.

Is it the sun-drenched cadmium who sings with the green

Or the rose that pales and dies.

Which one will anyone ever know but me?

And now, now the virtual me. The long-distance me

The Zoom me the LinkedIn me the Facebook me

The blog me the website me the text me.

Is she the same as me? Who is she,

Please?

How will I ever know or will anyone know who she is?

I need keywords to find her,

And the words fail me.