A Regret

Kurt, early twenties. Met him after an AA meeting in Silverlake (November, eighty-five). I remem- ber standing with him up- stairs, in the clubhouse, how I checked his body out. But not who approached whom. Or what we talked about before we leaned against my car and kissed, under that tarnished L.A. moon. Drove to my place and un- dressed him in the dark. He was smaller than me. I couldn’t keep my hands off his ass. Next morning, smoked till he woke, took him back. He thanked me sweetly. I couldn’t have said what I wanted, though must have known. Drove home and put him in a poem ("November") I was at the end of. Later that day it rained (I know from the poem).