waiting for the happy ending

we sat together, the three of us
in bed watching life
in a nutshell as life
in a nutshell slipped by,
interrupted now and then
by the screams of the woman
across the street being
beaten by her boyfriend.
some lovers just won’t quit.
I wanted to call the cops
but you both said don’t bother,
“you don’t want to be involved
with those people.” I thought
I already am and 911
could save a life, but
someone beat me to it,
the lights, the yells
the interrogation and
finally the cop cars driving
away, away somewhere
into the night, and we
returned from pushing back
the edge of the metal blinds,
from peering at the unfolding
real-life drama in which
they didn’t want to be
involved – it wasn’t me –
as the inflatable curtain
came down and we reclined
to our comfortable positions
side-by-side in bed,
safe, shaken, stirred,
waiting for the happy ending
which did not feel quite right.