Just Kristin

“Riv­eted“
Robyn Sarah, A Day’s Grace
© The Porcupine’s Quill

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 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 dénoue­ment
to the unsur­pris­ing end — riv­eted, as it were;
spell­bound by our own imper­fect lives
because they are lives,
and because they are ours.