Written on the back of a paper plate.
Frank, Stop Staring Please
After drinks, Frank O’Hara starts to look kind of creepy–
staring from the cover of a book of collected poetry, in
black-and-white and green-and-black frowning.
Especially when seated on the shelf next to the toilet
Frank, looking, why?
You want more privacy when you are drunk.
I stayed in Boston! I will write on the backs of paper plates!
I will write at a cold iron coffee table at Cardullo’s
in Harvard Square, I will make them famous
I will start the Boston School
And all my friends will go to the school.
Let’s high-five, let’s move to New York. Let’s move to Brooklyn.
Let’s not, let’s stay, screw Brooklyn, pastrami sandwich.
Just do not stare, master poet.
Let me sit in decided peace.