The Anatomy of a Predicate, Sunday Morning, Breakfast Table, 2003

I had very little capacity for surprise,

that's what they made of me---

and that is what they would say at the bottom of my obituary

No one ever asks me what I want for my last meal,

I think it would be spaghetti and meatballs,

and a glass of milk

Perhaps if you prepare for the worst,

then everything always seems better

But when I do such things, they tell me I am morbid,

that I am of a dark state of mind,

that I have lost my ability to hear Amadeus and smile

And when they say such things,

I come to new and more palatable conclusions----

that we, in fact, are exactly what we were destined to be,

just strangers on a train