I remember Vince taking my hand in his under the table at a reggae and jazz bar. I forget the name of the place, though, only that we went there after a poetry reading, our first "date." Nothing happened that night, or for weeks after, in fact, because Vince had told me he was straight ... and despite hints just short of sky-writing to the contrary, I had assumed he was unavailable. Besides, just a year before, he had been a student of mine, fifteen closer to sixteen years younger than I. Still, the hand-holding was sweet--and he said something sweet too (it was "you changed my life")--and then this sweet Irish Catholic surfer boy, who said "Berber King" instead of "Burger King," went on to change my life, at least for the next three or four years or so.