it is hoped that readers will forgive the uncharacteristic honesty of the following poem. i won't let it happen again. honestly.
POEM
The voice of Frank O'Hara
is talking in my head tonight
as I sit lonely by my
window watching the
women in the street.
Couples very much in love
cross beneath the window
heading for the restaurant
next door to my flat, where
they will sit, drink wine,
and love each other in the
muted light. O Frank, I want
to be one of them again.
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