But if we can't talk about a
hundred ways to laugh
about it.
We can't be friends.
You being happy is alright.
But if we can't peel it down
to the core, to hold it
against light to examine its
existential vanity.
We can't be friends.
I want to know why sorrow
has such an inflated ego,
and why joy always behaves
as though it invented
the universe.
I want to get into the mess
of chaos. Swim in the ripples
deliberately created by
stoning the still waters.
I want a cesspool we can
regret and romanticize.
Like, if we can't laugh at
funerals. If we can't
philosophize bad coffee.
If we can't interrupt our
deepest confessions with
the stupidest jokes.
We can't be friends.
I don't want conversations
that merely exchange
weather reports of the heart.
I want an intellectual
vandalism that rearranges
each other's thoughts to
leave fingerprints on
each other's worldview.
I want us to disagree
without becoming enemies.
I want us to change our
minds without calling it
defeat.
If curiosity of certain kind
finds us to make us reckless
about our explorations-
Let's end up as footnotes in
each other's thinking.
Let's argue all about it,
till we embarrass ourselves
into a dungeon of
comfortable silence.
And only if we're compelled
to fill it up with something
unnecessarily,
We can't be friends.