So we’re sitting there, right?
We as in you and me.
Not an us, but a you and me;
Something we agreed on a while ago.
But like I said, we’re sitting there,
Staring at the sky and talking,
Mostly about the meaning of life
Or something.

Your eyes never leave the clouds
Gathering together, warning us,
I mean, you and me,
That a storm is coming.
We’re silent for a few moments
Before you tilt your head to the side
And say something about how
Life is like an incredibly intense rainstorm.

I don’t really get what you mean,
And I don’t particularly like rain
Unless it’s very, very light,
So the metaphor is lost on me.
But I shrug it off;
Keep staring at the clouds.
Because I like that about us.
Pardon, you and me.

Not everything makes sense.
And not everything has to.