Like a sneeze it seems we were thrown together,
then your yawning and imminent departure.
Almost a smile but in every way
contemplation each wayward day.
I’m worst on mornings just like this,
terrible on evenings like this too,
in markets they won’t even sell me superglue
because they think that I am two.
I am not two and I know you’re not -2,
about the extent of my mathematical ability,
especially when I reinvent you
to placate my personal conceits.