My Regret

by Joanna Gilman Hyde

There are plenty of men

with whom

Eye wish Eye had never gone to bed —

probably all of them

for there was never one

who stood out above all the rest —

concerning “Love” that is —

the first was a French Jew Dope Dealer

living with his mother

and fathering a little boy —

the last was, oh, who was that?

And with none of them

did Eye find Myself

in the throes of ecstatic “True Love”

(whatever THAT is)

Oh! Woe Is Me…