Together we came to the edge of the city, walked its streets, its avenues, carrying in our different ways the flame of life. We were learning to care for that flame – learning not to die. The city swirled around us, all its seasons seeming to happen at once, inside us. Its music happening too and we were – you especially – adding to it. In one of its apartments you sang, and I sang too, in this quieter mode, joining together the city's ongoing theater.
Much of my singing you couldn't hear. It happened while you were sleeping, while looking at you for a moment at peace. That’s the way of love: in the end, it’s a private affair.
Now, still at the city's edge, we parted. I saw you striding away, not looking back, the wind rain sun snow all happening around you, wind rain sun snow in your hair, and above me too, while I watched you go. Older, slower, it took me time, is taking me time, to turn away, to walk with my it-seems-tonight-diminished flame deeper still into the city, another long block, toward whatever awaits at its heart.
