Intervention

I was sitting for about an eternity
swaying, and what Jews call shuckling,
about to abandon all hope,

when I leaned over and picked up an old New Yorker
with a Billy Collins poem
about how dogs can wear party hats 

and one who dressed up in a tuxedo
to give the bride away, whereas 
ants are too tiny even to wear bathrobes

or read magazines. And that did the trick! 
Thanks a million, Billy. 
I owe you one.