Why Not?

Why not ramble? There is certainly enough to talk about, right? Take the present state of our affairs, how the simple things in life have gotten us this far into the delicate and intense, rudimentary exchange of intimate secrets covered with the worldly face of boring gestures. You hand me a cup of tea and I am supposed to say - thank you - but the wind blows on the old oak and we both lose track of time and politeness, or I do and I don't notice if you're with me in this abandon; or how I can tell you you are freakishly childish and you get upset and tell me nothing worth retaliation, you just sit on it as if it were a very uncomfortable cushion but the only one on the couch, instead of picking the damn pillow up and smacking me square in the face! So what if you are uninhibited and aloof? Better that than the dormant state in which I find myself in much of the time, in the abysmal silence that returns with the passing of each moon like the drowning tide of an unsettled ocean. Let's go for a swim, then.