i have only the dimmest memory
i knew he wouldn’t let me kiss him
“i have halitosis,” he said,
“i’m afraid you’ll have to manage alone.”

i helped him out of his shirt and
glanced in that brief interval of nudity
the inhaled diaphragm
pressing up into the minute ribs.

“I mean, it’s not as if you often do.”
he laughed, sheepishly, and turned around.
what else had i expected? i undressed
by the colored light of the window.

i don’t think the leaves knew
they were turning to flame.
headlights coming around the curve transected me.
“are you all right, darling?”

not wanting to seem helpless and scare him off
i began to look about for more permanent,
i mean relatively permanent,
relations with men.