To Irk The Sum

Irk: Poetry about love, I could be writing. But you know what? I'm not.
Sum: Yeah, I know you're not.
Irk: How do you know I'm not? You're not even looking at me?
Sum: I know I'm not looking at you, you don't have to talk to me in that tone.
Irk: So then how do you know?
Sum: Well, you can't really write anything about love unless you've experienced it.
Irk: And why do you assume that I've never experienced love?
Sum: Because you just got defensive and said what you just said. You've never experienced it, you don't know what to write about, and besides... if you really sat down to write something about love you would think long and hard and longer and harder and then give up and talk to me about it and we would have a conversation like the one we are having right now except I would pace myself better and try to not have run-on sentences.
Irk: Your wisdom, or lack thereof, bores me. I'm telling you I know what love is.
Sum: Oh you do? Well... what is it?
Irk: Why should I tell you? You're probably going to annoy me once more with your useless banter and return the question back to me like an unqualified psychotherapist.
Sum: Thank you for that pathetic attempt for an insult, but you don't really expect me to change the subject now, do you? What is love?
Irk: You're full of something, you know that?
Sum: Yes, so are you, that's why we are here together.
Irk: We are not here together, you are here with me, for a good reason I imagine.
Sum: Maybe. What is love?
Irk: Maybe... that's all you have to say?
Sum: Stop avoiding the question. What is love? Or maybe you don't know but are too pathetic to admit it?
Irk: Excuse-moi, but if I was pathetic I wouldn't have such clever self-conscious dialogue to entertain you with, now would I?
Sum: I don't know. I don't care. What is love?
Irk: Please, let's not board the apathetic plane lest we crash into the sea because we stop caring about living.
Sum: Don't worry, I don't have enough money to purchase tickets. What is love?
Irk: I'm not worried, we cannot fly anyway, we don't have passports.
Sum: No further distractions. What is love?
Irk: Agreed. Love is.
Sum: Lovely.
Irk: Is it now? Do you know what love is then?
Sum: I was asking you the question, you were answering. No cheap psychotherapy, tyvm.
Irk: Ok. Then do not interrupt if you want to know my answer.
Sum: How do you know I want to know your answer?
Irk: Well you are asking me a question, are you not?
Sum: Am I? Am I now? Am I?
Irk: Are you?
Sum: Je ne sais pas. I don't feel like I was asking you anything.
Irk: Maybe your memory was shot down by your feeble attempts at humour.
Sum: Possibly.
Irk: Yes.
Sum: Mmm.
Irk: Mm.
Sum: M.
Irk: Did you just say M?
Sum: Yes, yes I did. Appalled?
Irk: I would be if you didn't expect me to be appalled. I see you are, so I am quite ambivalent.
Sum: Serious? How so?
Irk: I don't wish to bore you with the details like you have been boring me with your questions for the past unspecific amount of time.
Sum: Well that could offend me, but it does not.
Irk: I'm glad, no words can hurt you.
Sum: Nope, I'm invincible.
Irk: Yes, and so am I.
Sum: We are.
Irk: I am, you are, we are. All three pronouns we can use to describe our isness.
Sum: And isn't it funny then how we can never really point a finger to it?
Irk: I haven't quite been able to laugh at that yet. Not yet.
Sum: Really? Don't you think it's funny?
Irk: That we go around in circles?
Sum: Isn't that conversation? We take turns speaking?
Irk: Yeah, you talk, I talk, you talk, I talk, and from the point of view of the collective we both talk and that is our conversation and it goes in circles because it goes from me to you to me to you to me to you to me to you and it goes on and on like that until we stop.
Sum: Right. You would rather be doing something else?
Irk: Yes. Feeling.
Sum: You want to write poetry, don't you?
Irk: Yes. Poetry.
Sum: About?
Irk: Oh, you know, something that I can write about. Something I can express and look at and see how I feel about while I write and while I read it later if I get the chance. Something about nothing in particular, but something nonetheless because nothing in particular is really worth talking about unless it is something relevant.
Sum: Care to elaborate by giving an example?
Irk: I don't wish to elaborate because that would mean longer sentences. So I will be brief. I'm thinking... I'll write about love.
Sum: Love? Oh, and you know love?
Irk: Who doesn't?
Sum: You know about love?
Irk: Yes.
Sum: You want to talk about it?
Irk: Do I look like a teenager who just witnessed a shocking event in their life?
Sum: To be honest, I don't know what you look like.
Irk: Well, I do.
Sum: Can you show me?
Irk: Nope, I couldn't even if I wanted to. But you already know what you look like.
Sum: Yes, but I want to know what you look like so I know who I'm having this conversation with.
Irk: Yes, but you don't need to look further than yourself.
Sum: This sounds quite profound.
Irk: Sounds can be deceiving, just like appearances.
Sum: So then, what can we trust to be true? Oh, please tell me!
Irk: An exclamation!
Sum: Oh, oh, oh, oh!
Irk: Fear not, I shan't change the subject to Shakespearean England.
Sum: I am glad.
Irk: I am, too. You are glad. We are glad. All three pronouns are used.
Sum: Correct.
Irk: I wonder sometimes... who I am...
Sum: I wonder that sometimes as well.
Irk: Have you found an answer?
Sum: I don't know what to tell you. I know the answer already but it's like I want to check it with something and every time I try to find something to compare it against, it doesn't quite match up.
Irk: Is that so? Why is that?
Sum: Well, let me elaborate. There are others that I see around, and I try to get to know them and I make friends with them and if we are good friends then it means I am closer to finding a match to who I am. Then there is money, which I try to use and buy things for myself and when I have these tangibles I try to see how I feel when I have them.
Irk: And how effective has this proven to be?
Sum: Not very, I still don't have an answer.
Irk: You know why?
Sum: Yes.
Irk: I do, too.
Sum: Have you had much success in that department?
Irk: Kitchenware?
Sum: We are not in Briscoes. I mean with the question of who you are.
Irk: Yes. I have had as much success as you.
Sum: Somehow I don't believe that.
Irk: Neither do I... and I was the one that said it.
Sum: Why did you say that?
Irk: Je ne sais pas.
Sum: You should write your poetry now.
Irk: I should? Why do you say that?
Sum: Thank you for repeating my question, we have once more arrived at a common point in the circle.
Irk: We are always at the same point in the circle. The Earth moves. We don't.
Sum: Sometimes I don't even think we are on the Earth.
Irk: Why?
Sum: Because we don't move. I would expect that, if the Earth moves, we should move with it. But we don't. We seem to be stuck.
Irk: You know... you have a point. I feel stuck, too. Frozen in a loop.
Sum: You should write your poetry now.
Irk: Ah, you remembered that I should be writing my poetry now.
Sum: Yes, I do retain some memory.
Irk: What should I write my poetry about? Perhaps a memory?
Sum: You were going to write about love.
Irk: Yes. Do I know anything about love, though? You were doubting me sometime ago.
Sum: Doubt is a bitch.
Irk: No doubt.
Sum: I won't bother you with the question about love then because it would take you too long to answer it and we would end up back here again without an answer.
Irk: I might have an answer for you.
Sum: You might.
Irk: I might.
Sum: So, this love... is it grand?
Irk: You know already.
Sum: Remind me, so I know I know
Irk: Well, it's not very grand. It's not taller than Everest, smaller than a pea, juicier than a pear.
Sum: So how do you know anything about it if you want to write about it?
Irk: I know it, somehow. Inherently.
Sum: This is a new development, is it not?
Irk: No, it's the same question and answer, phrased differently, giving the illusion of originality but actually hiding behind the same thing.
Sum: That is wonderfully simple.
Irk: We are copies of each other because of it.
Sum: How do you think that makes me feel?
Irk: How I feel, but I could lie to you and tell you a different story. Then I would be inventing a narrative.
Sum: Then it would be original, would it not?
Irk: Would it? It's a copy, but it looks new. Is that new?
Sum: Je ne sais pas.
Irk: We do, we just don't want to know it yet.
Sum: How does it make sense to not want to know something that we already know?
Irk: It doesn't.
Sum: Are we waiting for Godot?
Irk: On the surface, if you had met me about an unspecific amount of time ago, I would have said yes.
Sum: But now?
Irk: Just now.
Sum: Now?
Irk: Yes.
Sum: So?
Irk: I was telling you about love, was I not?
Sum: Might've been, yes.
Irk: Ok. Well... Love is.
Sum: I hear you.
Irk: I'm glad.
Sum: So am I.