I'm reading Slaughterhouse Five for the first time this week, and clearly the man was tortured by something. Was it the endless injustices of the world, a love lost, the horrors of war? Plenty of folks grew up being told by our nanny that gays should all be thrown off roofs, were beaten for acting too femme or swish, were told eternal pain was the price. So it goes.

Maybe Kurt was one of the vast multitude of folks so deep in the closet no one would ever know or have guessed. The unsung millions of queer folks who had that crush they couldn't act on, the midnight fantasies held close, the whispered confession of love that was rejected, the true love just out of reach.

Who hung in the balance friendships, job opportunities, family connections, and physical safety and decided that unrequited love was an easier burden to bear.

All that weighing, maybe seeing your love be happy but could never love you back the same way. All that held tight could forge the soul of a poet, and yes, maybe a sardonic and cynical poet. One with a sharp wit who tells his own truths outright on the page but with a mocking tone to help the medicine go down smooth. Easier to put on the motley of a clown and make a sarcastic quip about being gay or a writer than it is to speak deeper truths that have gotten millions of folks ostracized or killed. So it goes.