Last Goodbye

Suppose for a second you're the second half of misery,
Leaving me like the livery being scraped off a decommissioned race car.
You will be as missed as an owner is.
That is what you are, right? An owner.
Must be onerous to honour the yips and yaps
Of an insecure puppy.
I've never envied any creature more than your dog.
My last wonder is: would love have worked?
But I realize that it's all work.
Day in, day out, could work have love?
Work is the clink clink clink of nickels falling into
A spiralled funnel where kids can drop coins and
Watch as they go around and around,
Except this one fucker keeps snatching them
Right when they reach the drain.
There's nothing worse than being left at the altar.
Okay, this isn't a wedding; it's an oblation.
Okay, you RSVP'd no.
The first half of misery is always infatuation.
It's decided, then: we can't split.
We've always been atomic and separate.