This is a John Ashbery poem called "Just Walking Around."
"What name do I have for you?
Certainly, there is no name for you in the sense
that the stars have names that somehow fit them.
Just walking around, an object of curiosity to some,
but you are too preoccupied by the secret smudge
in the back of your soul to say much, and wander around smiling
to yourself and others.
It gets to be kind of lonely.
But at the same time, off-putting.
Counterproductive, as you realize
once again that the longest way is the most efficient way.
The one that looped among the islands and you always
seem to be traveling in a circle.
And now that the end is near, the segments of the trip
swing open like an orange.
There is light in there and mystery and food.
Come see it.
Come not for me, but it.
But if I am still there, grant that we may see each other."