Untitled

I meet my perfect mate
Every single day
On the train, the bus, the street;
But neither of us knows
Of our mortise-and-tenon fit,
Nor is it likely that chance
Will smile upon us broadly
And dispel this minor obstacle
That otherwise forever will disjoin us.
Without that miracle,
The freeze is on,
And a few brief slashes of sunlight
Are not sufficient
To relieve the gloom of lifelong winter.