Poem

 after Frank O’ Hara

 

Yesterday afternoon was a dance;

today’s has been a trudge.

No chance of sitting reading

in the brilliant park

No chance acolytes and diamonds.

 

You haven’t sent..

That accusatory tone.

Better to go home and find your

girl and her love making

a chocolate cake.

 

Going upstairs, coming back

down to take it out of the oven,

tip on the chocolate nipples

then, when done, and melty,

secrete it away in their room.

 

Am I jealous?
Where is my chocolate-cake making-

out moment? Now they have

gone for pizzas.

All the best parts of me are back.

 

Thank God!

I can cry; am hornier than

I ever was at eighteen; am multi-tasking

in my head. I’m re-entering.

O, sweet neurosis of imminent May!