When I lived on Gilbert Place

In East Hollywood

with my lover Scott

From 1980-1987

In a 1920s bungalow

That had no history of animals.

Unless you call

The people that broke into our house

Stole my inherited father’s watch

Or Scott’s 1977 Orange Datsun

When he was working at home

On his English PHD

From USC.

But when we returned home

From a three week

Cosmos tour of Europe

We had a surprise visitor

When I opened the kitchen drawer

To make a home cooked meal

I found a large dead rat

Decomposing before my eyes

I shut the drawer

Not wanting for that image

To remain tattooed

In my brain until now

Luckily,

I had no sense of smell

Almost simultaneously

I heard Scott screaming,

“Come to the bathroom.”

In the toilet bowl

Was another rat

That looked like he

Was frozen

Dunking his head into the water.

It’s no surprise

That we put the house

On the market immediately,

Despite Scott having AIDS

And little energy

To help with a move.

But we’d always dreamed

Of living in West Hollywood.

Thank goodness Scott could have

The quality of life

To enjoy the LGBTQ walking city f

For a year and half before

He died.

Plus, there were no animals.