You do not always know what I am feeling.
Last night in the warm spring air while I was
blazing my tirade against someone who doesn't
interest ///////////////////////////////////
///////me, it was love for you that set me
afire, //////////////////////////////////
////and isn't it odd? for in rooms full of
strangers my most tender feelings ///////
////////////////////////////////// writhe and
bear the fruit of screaming. Put out your hand,
isn't there ///////////////////////////////
//////////an ashtray, suddenly, there? beside
the bed? And someone you love enters the room
and says wouldn't////////////////////////
//////////////////you like the eggs a little
different today?/////////////////////////////
////////////////And when they arrive they are
just plain scrambled eggs and the warm weather
is holding./////////////////////////////
-frank o'hara
No comments:
Post a Comment