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Discourse with Oneself

I like the way you whine
but I'm wondering if you really intend to do it
all the time

Is there nothing I can offer you?

The food is hot
the dessert, quite cold
There's Schubert and Pink Floyd to choose from

And at the risk of sounding cliché
I could point out that the sky is reddish-gold,
the weather is Georgian beautiful
and the leaves are slowly falling
in a way you might find pleasing

There are children
and friendships
to amuse us
And I don't want to pressure you
or make you lose your groove
But I'm getting really sick of listening to Enya

all the goddamn time

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