Belatedly

by Aimee Kling

Belatedly, I thought to ask you about it –
I was standing in the yogurt aisle,

bleary-eyed on a Thursday,
running through my never-ending list 

of where and when and who to be,
and I remembered that time on the couch,

when you started a sentence and stopped,
shook your head, sighed.

At the time, I hate to say, I barely noticed;
there were noises, lights, and things
buzzing and humming, distracting and meaning.

Later, after everything, after the end,
next to the yogurt, goosebumps from those

grocery store refrigerators,
I thought of it again, and I thought maybe

our sentence started (ended) there,
when I didn’t wonder what you didn’t say.

I don’t wish I’d asked – that’s not precisely
what this feeling is.

What is this feeling?
I think I wish I knew

that I was making a choice,
and not just sitting on a couch next to you.

I chose my yogurt, then toothpaste, grapes,
then, at the last minute, a candy bar,

all the while wondering what choices
I have made without realizing.

I think I hope you are
choosing a life that chooses you too.