The flesh covers the bones and puts a mind in there and sometimes a soul.
And women break vases against the walls and men drink too much and no one finds the ideal match but they continue to search by crawling in and out of the beds.
Meat covers bones and meat seeks much more than mere meat.
In fact, there is no chance: we are all stuck in a singular destiny. No one ever finds the ideal match.
The city dumps are complete, the old irons are completed, the hospices are completed, the graves are completed, nothing else is completed.