All summer, I kept wishing I had my
Frank O'Hara collection with me, and not locked in a storage unit. Now it's back where it belongs, on my bookshelf. Here is a poem from it.
TRAVEL
Sometimes I know I love you better
than all the others I kiss it's funny
but it's true and I wouldn't roll
from one to the next so fast if you
hadn't knocked them all down like
ninepins when you roared by my bed
I keep trying to race ahead and catch
you at the newest station or whistle
stop but you are flighty about
schedules and always soar away just
as leaning from my taxicab my breath
reaches for the back of your neck
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