Frank O'Hara

Call Me

The eager note on my door said “Call me,”
call when you get in!" so I quickly threw
a few tangerines into my overnight bag,
straightened my eyelids and shoulders, and
 
headed straight for the door.  It was autumn
by the time I got around the corner, oh all
unwilling to be either pertinent or bemused, but
the leaves were brighter than grass on the sidewalk!
 
Funny, I thought, that the lights are on this late
and the hall door open; still up at this hour, a
champion jai-alai player like himself? Oh fie!
for shame!  What a host, so zealous!  And he was
 
there in the hall, flat on a sheet of blood that
ran down the stairs.  I did appreciate it.  There are few
hosts who so thoroughly prepare to greet a guest
only casually invited, and that several months ago.
Altre opere di Frank O'Hara...



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