hearing out

he's in love
with his wife;
he's in love
with his life
and i get by, i do,
on five hours a day
hearing out
his play-by-play
of countless minutia.
he offers me sorries
i won't ever take;
what romance exists
for a listener to make,
when she's glowing
and living vicarious?
what could be a dream
needs fuel to depart
from disenchanted chords
and believe again, again.