Riveted

It is possible that things will not get better

than they are now, or have been known to be.

It is possible that we are past the middle now.

It is possible that we have crossed the great water

without knowing it, and stand now on the other side.

Yes: I think that we have crossed it. Now

we are being given tickets, and they are not

tickets to the show we had been thinking of,

but to a different show, clearly inferior.

Check again: it is our own name on the envelope.

The tickets are to that other show.

It is possible that we will walk out of the darkened hall

without waiting for the last act: people do.

Some people do. But it is probable

that we will stay seated in our narrow seats

all through the tedious denouement

to the unsurprising end— riveted, as it were;

spellbound by our own imperfect lives

because they are lives,

and because they are ours.