Books happy, books unhappy

On the happy side, I've been indulging myself re-reading all of Tanya Huff's Victoria Nelson Blood books.  Dreamhaven even had a bunch of stuff signed by her, so my new omnibus is signed.  Yay!

Also, my brain is having fun niggling at all the ways I didn't enjoy two very well-written, well-conceived fantasy novels I read this week.  This is my idea of a good time.  Why didn't I like the books?  Umm, because they did stuff that I find interesting in ways that weren't how I would do it if I were God of That Particular Universe.  The writing in both was well-paced, characterizations were well-drawn, heck, the dialogue was even good.  And both books took me three times longer to read than a trashy romance novel full of stock paranormal writing would have, because they just irritated me.  Partly this is because I really have grown to dislike Epic Fantasy, even when its done with a fair amount of originality and intelligence.  Partly is because a lot of how authors add intelligence to books in fantasy is to put in stuff about psychology and morality and hard choices and how we ought to behave in situations full of shades of gray.  I have quite strong opinions about that and am more likely to dislike a book that chooses a slightly different Shade of Gray than the one I would than I am to dislike a book written in cartoonish Black and White.  Which is, I think, part of the reason shades-of-gray books have built-in smaller audiences.  Black and White, since it's the biggest abstraction, has the fewest clashes with individual reader morality.

On the unhappy side, I finished Emako Blue and am reading Life is Funny, in my ongoing attempt to read the kinds of YA books that kids at my library read, rather than the kind that I want to read.  I mean, I personally think that readers' advisory only really works well if you've personally read at least a significant core of the books you're going to recommend.  Which means that now that I'm actually a YA librarian I need to read more sports books, more nature books, and more sad-realistic books.
For Emako Blue, I suspect that the dialogue and the mindsets of the characters and the facts of the situation are all really realistic.  And that's pretty much what the intended reader wants out of this short book - here's a situation that sucks, here are the people in it, here's how they move through it. 

It wasn't very satisfying for me as a reader because I just hate sad books.  I like fantasy novels and action.  I was waiting for a group to get together and take down the guys who shot the poor girl, or for it to be revealed that the bitchy rich girl had actually had a hit put out on her or something and now felt really bad.  Or for the emotional strain to drive the middle-class best friend crazy and then she BECOMES A WEREWOLF or something and kills the mean brother in revenge.  Nothing of that nature happened which is what makes it realistic and not fantasy/horror.  But I find werewolves way less horrific than the actual reality of broke people dealing with street violence.

I have noticed that the books that are publisher/author aimed at the YA market in this realistic-sad-urban genre read very differently than the ones aimed at adults, though the teens seem to like both.

Bothering me for years - a copyright question

Ok, so when I was, um, 17 and 19 the events that this question is based in transpired.
I was a young, very naive type writer-person.  The internet was not full of the knowledge about the writer world that it is now full of, at least, not anywhere I was hanging out online in 1997-1999.

I sold two poems to a very nice online magazine.  They even paid me.  I suppose, if I hadn't been too struck by this fact to cash the check, that the check would almost certainly not have bounced, though I've never cashed the check because it was a PHYSICAL PROOF SOMEONE WOULD PAY FOR MY WRITING and it was not going to leave my hot hands.  I still have it under my bed in a plastic box.
About a year, year and a half later, a different online magazine contacted me and asked if they could reprint the poem.  I said sure.
Now, I'm pretty much sure that what I sold was first rights only, and it had been quite a while (I've reread the very nice contract they mailed me a couple of times as I puzzled guiltily over this).  And magazine number one never said anything to me or removed the poem from their archive or anything (it's still there, if you scroll way way way back), but I've been wondering ever since I started to learn more about publication type stuff...
#1
Should I have asked Magazine #1 before giving Magazine #2 the go ahead to reprint the poem?
Even if it wasn't something I was legally required to do, is there some professional standard of courtesy about this kind of thing?  I'm sure if I went to like, literary poetry classes I would have known that kind of thing, but I was just out of high school.  They tell high school poets to do things like submit to Teen Ink which copyrights the works in its name and gets the right to republish them in any format forever (really, read their submission guidelines.)
#2
Should I worry that my (possibly) fiendish behavior in allowing internet Magazine #2 to reprint the poem in question is the kind of author faux pas that is going to haunt me ten odd years later if I ever actually start finishing and submitting works to folks again?  This sounds really stupid because it is the kind of stupid newbie question that FAQs by kind authors address, but honestly, this KEEPS ME UP NIGHTS sometimes, usually when I'm PMS-ing or what have you.

Ok, gonna put my head between my legs, breathe deeply, go get a cola from the machine, and try to stop procrastinating working on the Ugly Novel on my Thumb Drive, which I've been avoiding for a solid month.
Stupid heroine, stupid un-hero, stupid mob in the streets with torches.  *grrr*  I think I read too much Dumas and Prisoner of Zenda as a kid, not to mention too much Generic Epic Fantasy.  Bad characters!  No biscuit.  *sigh*

PS You can tell I'm really worried about all this because I carefully didn't specify poem or magazine name or whatever.  It was online long enough that in 2003 when my new boss googled my name, that was the first search result, though.  Kinda embarrassing cause it was an erotic poem, but fortunately he quite liked it, so that was ok.