Personal Choice

That's why I decided
to walk at your side.
One day, perhaps a month
or maybe a certain indeterminate
number of years.

I have no valid excuses
for your confusion.
I don't wear myself out
and neither do I have any desire
to return again to begin again.
Romantic relations
always have
a chain reaction
that sooner or later
leads to funeral rites.

For the pleasure of seeing ourselves
we can burn
firewood in winter.

To feel alive
we can walk
to the edge of the afternoon
patiently enduring
the torrid summer.

Sometimes, without intending to,
we meet ourselves again --
We spoil our hurry
and seat ourselves, elbow to elbow,
to drink coffee

while the commitments
fall like leaves
or like blue flowers,
there outside in the patio.

We have to learn
if we go on walking
to accept absences
like something necessary.

To stay or to leave
without any shock:
the gates are there
without keys or padlocks.

To discover the silences
to have one's own space.

And to look for each other later
with surprise in our hands
urgency in our blood:
without asking questions
without giving an accounting
without new projects and announcements
of long tediums.

It was a personal choice,
and that's how I decided
to walk
at your side.