I regret
we ever met,
coming out of a Rascals concert,
both of us smiling, suffused with the music,
critical abilities in abeyance
as we followed the crowd into the subway.
Plus, okay, a little high.
Even rats express regret; one can see it
in their brain scans.
I regret I left my college, when I was
almost through, to follow him to the Midwest.
How non-vested with judgment the young are.
Maybe I should have had
that baby, the one I thought I’d have to
carry to work and plunk down
in a cardboard box,
my gamble on perfect behavior.
I regret I stayed with him too long,
because the leaving was hard for me.
How can I reconcile the man who smashed
walls, dishes, broke all my love,
and then when I left, grabbed
all our cash,
with the man who carried
abandoned dogs out of apartments
in the wake of 9-11?
I can’t think about him without
thinking of the counterfactual.
Where is he now and what is his version
of if only?